


King of Monsters

by dark_roast



Series: King of Monsters [1]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_roast/pseuds/dark_roast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Odin took Loki from Jotunheim as a baby, he devised a plan for both his sons, and raised them both to be kings. He intended Thor to take the throne of Asgard, and Loki to rule Jotunheim, to bring lasting peace to both realms.</p><p>At the end of Avengers, Loki is brought back to Asgard in chains, where Odin tells Loki that he has decided Loki's punishment. Loki will be sent to Jotunheim, along with the Casket of Ancient Winters, to rule the Frost Giants.</p><p>And if Loki doesn't behave himself, Odin will hand him over to the Chitauri.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Loki knew fear. He was not Thor. He could not swagger through life with the expectation that everything would go his way, because he was a prince of Asgard. Everything had gone so wrong. Everything _was going_ so wrong.

He walked the length of the throne room by himself, his footsteps echoing on the polished floor. All the better to make him feel like a humble penitent. He knew he was being manipulated, and it made him angry, because it was working.

He approached the golden throne where his father — where _Odin_ — sat, frowning down grimly. Beside Odin stood Frigga, looking pale and disappointed. Thor stood at Odin's right side. Thor's face was blank. Even his blue eyes betrayed nothing. He looked past Loki, focusing on something across the throne room. Loki had been in Asgard for months. Thor had not spoken one word to him in all that time.

Loki had told himself he'd wanted this: for Thor to understand him. For Thor to see him, at long last. Well, Thor had seen him, and now Thor would not look him in the eyes; Loki had been so certain he would enjoy this moment, but all he felt was sick to his stomach. 

He knelt to Odin and pressed a fist to his heart. He bowed his head.

"Rise," Odin said.

Loki rose to his feet. Keeping his face an expressionless mask, he lifted his head and met Odin's gaze.

"Loki," said Odin. "I have given much thought about what is to be done with you. Thor told me what transpired on Midgard. I have decided to return you to the Chitauri, since you appear to value their company above all others."

Loki's stomach plummeted. When the wormhole over Midgard had closed, Loki had believed himself safe from the Chitauri. If they were not all dead, then there was no way they could reach the Nine Realms without someone to open a portal for them.

"Father!" Thor exclaimed.

"Thor, be silent."

"But, father —"

Odin's expression turned blackly furious. "I said be silent!"

Thor shut his mouth. A muscle in his jaw bunched.

Of all the punishments Loki had imagined, he had never considered this one. The Chitauri had found him after he'd fallen from the Bifrost. After he had wandered lost through the realms beyond Yggdrasil for what felt like eternities. The Chitauri had taken Loki to their homeworld as a specimen of a heretofore-unknown life form, and...

Loki realized he was trembling. He clenched his fists. His palms felt icy.

Odin said, "Thor, I am done with you defending Loki. I am done with you insisting that his misbehavior is somehow the result of your neglect, as if he were not intelligent enough to govern his own actions. Enough, Thor."

Thor bowed his head.

Loki knew Thor's protest hadn't been about him at all. Thor had told his father about the Chitauri invasion of Midgard, but Loki doubted Odin truly understood how dangerous the Chitauri could be. Their minds were not like the minds of the gods, nor the lower beings of the Nine Realms. The Chitauri should never be reached out to, and never spoken to. They should never be made aware of the existence of Asgard.

"Well, Loki?" Odin said. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"If my wishes carry any weight in the matter," Loki replied, forcing his voice to emerge steady and cool, "I prefer that you kill me now."

Odin shook his head. "No. You have grieved me deeply. You are an embarrassment to me, and to your brother, and to Asgard. But, you are still my son and a prince of the Realm Eternal. Therefore, I offer you a choice. You can be return to the Chitauri, or you can choose to redeem yourself."

Anger rose inside Loki again, and he held onto it tightly. "How might I do that? Father."

"You once asked me why I stole you from Jotunheim as a baby," Odin replied. "I told you I hoped we could bring peace to both our realms, through you."

Loki curled his lip. "Yes. I remember well. You kept me as a ransom, to insure that the Frost Giants never rebelled against you again."

"You were never a prize of war, nor a pawn on a game board." Odin replied. "I kept you as my own, and I raised you as my son, because I loved you. I still love you, Loki. I intended Thor to rule Asgard, and you to take the throne of Jotunheim."

Loki stared at Odin. He could not speak. Revulsion and rage tangled inside of him, squeezing into a fiery knot in his chest.

"You and Thor were both meant to be kings," Odin added. "Jotunheim has no king now. So, I give you Jotunheim to rule."

"I _murdered_ Laufey," Loki choked out. "I opened the Bifrost on Jotunheim. The Frost Giants will kill me the moment I set foot in their realm."

"They may kill you," Odin replied calmly. "They may not. If you choose to go to Jotunheim, you will go as you are now. As a god. I will give you the Casket of Ancient Winters that I took from King Laufey a thousand years ago."

Loki laughed harshly. "A choice of deaths. How generous."

"Don't speak to me of choice, Loki. You've made your choice. Your Chitauri army slaughtered thousands of midgardians."

"Lower beings," Loki protested. "Mortals. Beasts."

"You must learn that mortals are deserving of our mercy, if not our respect. I am giving you your birthright."

"My birthright?" Loki snarled. "A realm in ruins? A realm of monsters? What a rich and generous gift for someone you claim to love as your own."

Odin rose to his feet. "I taught you to be a god. An enlightened being. But it is obvious to me now that I have wasted my time. You are a jotun. Savage and brutal, and no better than the rest of your breed."

Frigga reached for Odin's arm, but Odin pulled away from her. "Jotunheim is where you belong. I should have left you there."

Tears burned behind Loki's eyes and his nose. It was one thing for him to know what he was. It was another thing entirely to have it flung back at him by the god he'd thought of as his father. But, he would not cry like a child. He wasn't a child anymore. He was, as Odin had pointed out, a monster.

Odin struck his staff on the floor with a booming clang. "Make your choice. Jotunheim, or the Chitauri."

***

Loki's choices were no choices at all. He chose Jotunheim. He met his punishment at the ragged edge of the Bifrost, where the foaming cataracts poured off the edge of the realm and roared into a nothingness hidden in mist. The breeze rising from below was warm and gentle. It smelled like the sweet, cascading waters of the endless river. Loki could almost taste the water on his tongue, knowing he would never taste it again.

Thor had accompanied Odin, of course. But none of Thor's companions stood by him. Neither Sif nor her Warriors Three. Frigga had not come, either. Evidently, she no longer wished to see Loki, and that was for the best, Loki told himself firmly.

Thor studied the broken Bifrost, and the vast darkness beneath it, and he still would not look at Loki. As Odin laid the Casket of Ancient Winters into Loki's hands, he bent his head close to Loki's. "I spoke in anger. I did not mean what I said about you, Loki. About never taking you from Jotunheim."

Loki took hold of the Casket, and his hands turned the blue of jotun flesh as his true nature overcame Odin's magic.

"You should have left me," he said.

"You were a baby," Odin answered patiently. "You would have died." Before Loki could eply that Odin should have left him, regardless, Odin added, "You are my son, and you are Thor's brother. Remember that."

Loki felt the Casket of Ancient Winters reaching for him, as it had the last time he'd held it in his hands. It was not intelligent, but it was aware of him. With the power of the Casket, the Frost Giants had made their conquest of the Nine Realms a thousand years ago. The Casket had been hidden in Odin's treasure room ever since, and the Frost Giants had lived in their dark and crumbling realm with their memories of vanished glory.

Loki said, "Why give me the Casket? Aren't you worried I'll use it?"

"Heimdall and I will keep watch over you."

"So, I'm to mind my manners." Loki glanced past Odin at Thor's broad back. "Like a good little boy. I'm to prove myself useful. Like a good little stolen relic."

Odin lifted his hand as if he meant to touch Loki, but before Loki even thought to step away, Odin let his hand fall back to his side. "You are to behave like the king I raised you to be. That is what I expect, and what the Frost Giants expect."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself."

Loki stiffened. That should not have stung. Certainly not so sharply. And it might not have, had Odin gone on to say that Loki was too savage, to brutal, too jotun — to be ashamed of himself. But he did not.

He lifted his staff and his free hand, gathering dark matter from the sea of chaos outside the realm. A portal formed between Odin's hands. Small at first, and black as night. Odin tossed it gently toward the edge of the Bifrost, where it blossomed with sparks of blue and violet. The thin ribbon of wind streaming out of the portal was chilly and damp. Loki took a firmer grip on the Casket, summoning an illusion that would cloak his jotun form in its Asgardian lie. He stepped toward the portal.

"Wait!" Frigga's voice stopped him.

His mother came running to the edge of the Bifrost, her heavy white and gold skirts bunched up inelegantly in one hand. In her other hand, she carried something small. Loki couldn't see what it was.

"I nearly missed you," she gasped. "I'm so sorry, Loki."

She swept him into her embrace; her soft, warm cheek pressed against his briefly, before she let him go. Then she held up a small packet of gold cloth, the ends knotted together to keep something inside.

"What is that?" Loki said.

Frigga tucked the parcel securely inside his coat, and then smoothed down his lapel. "Something to remind you of home." She touched his face. "Keep warm."

Loki sighed.

Frigga smiled at his annoyance, then she raised herself on her toes and kissed his cheek. There were tears in her eyes.

Loki could not continue to look at her, and keep from weeping himself. He walked toward the portal, and this time, he did not stop. Nor did he look back. Odin's portal swept Loki through the sea of chaos between the realms, and in the time it took his heart to beat thrice, the portal delivered him to Jotunheim, and deposited him with a flare of light and a whoosh of wind. He didn't need to look behind him to know that the portal had swiftly spiraled into itself, and vanished. He felt a kick of air against the back of his coat, and then nothing. He'd assumed the portal would drop him in some desolate spot — as if there was a spot in Jotunheim that wasn't desolate — and that he would be forced to walk to Laufey's palace the way he had walked the length of the throne room to face his father.

Instead, the portal opened into a cavernous hall constructed of dark stone. Iron cages were set high along the walls, and in each one burned a ball of blue flame. Half of the roof was shattered, one wall gone, and the sky above it obscured by dark clouds. A group of Frost Giants knelt to Loki, pressing their fists to their hearts and bowing their heads. Jotunheim had been expecting him, evidently.

In his hands, the Casket of Ancient Winters began to sing. No lower being could have heard it. Only Loki knew it sang, and he knew why. The Casket had come home.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Three Frost Giants knelt to Loki's left. To his right, four more. Beside the Frost Giants knelt two smaller individuals, who were Loki's own size. Both wore sapphire-colored coats, heavily embroidered in black. Their short-cropped hair was as inky-dark as Loki's. Their heads were bent, so Loki could not see their faces, but the skin of their hands was the same blue as that of their giant companions.

Loki hadn't expected this. Odin had said he was small for a giant's offspring, but Loki never thought to question that further, because it made no difference. Either his small size was the reason he'd been abandoned to die as an infant, or all jotun offspring were small.

"Loki of Asgard," the Frost Giant closest to his left said, in a low and gravelly voice. "Welcome to Jotunheim."

"You may rise," said Loki.

As the Frost Giant stood up, Loki realized she was female. She was much taller than Loki, but still, she kept her horned head bowed and her massive fist pressed to her heart. Instead of a kilt wrapped at her waist, she wore a long gray cloth twisted and pleated all around her.

"I am called Gauthild." She lowered her hand, and straightened to her full height. "I was chief councilor to King Laufey, and I am honored to offer myself to you, Sword of Asgard."

Loki inclined his head.

One of the other Frost Giants leaned down to help an ancient Frost Giant to his feet. This elder was swathed in long white robes. One of his curving horns had broken off, leaving a blackened stub. He nodded to his helper.

Gauthild said to Loki, "We thank the Allfather for restoring the Casket of Ancient Winters to Jotunheim."

She gestured toward the far end of the hall, where two jagged pillars stood, broken at their tops like shattered teeth protruding from a jawbone. Between the pillars rose an empty stone pedestal carved with designs that matched those on the Casket. Beyond the pedestal Loki saw a flat balcony. A set of wide steps led down to an empty, icy plain littered with broken stones.

"I think not," Loki said.

"Sword of Asgard, forgive my boldness, but you cannot keep the Casket. It may harm even an Asgardian."

Loki smiled thinly. "Once you have your Casket, what is to stop you from harming me?"

Gauthild drew back. "Asgard has made a great gesture of trust and faith in Jotunheim. A gesture of which we hope to be worthy."

"We've no wish for a war with Asgard," said a distinctly female voice.

Loki's head snapped around. One of the small ones in sapphire blue was female. She wore a stiff, cropped jacket over a long, full gown. Her face and throat were ridged with subtle swirls and lines like the other jotunar. A small pair of horns rose from her dark curls, curving toward her cheekbones. Her eyes were level, intelligent, and deep crimson; and she absolutely hated him. She was not concealing that well at all. The set of her shoulders and the tightness of her jaw conveyed her loathing with unmistakable clarity.

She walked to where Loki and Gauthild stood, adding, "War has already cost us too much."

Loki released his hold on the Casket, gestured quickly, and it vanished. Both Gauthild and the smaller female jotun stepped back in surprise.

"I shall keep the Casket," Loki said.

He vanished his illusory second self as well. Odin was by far his superior in magic. Loki still found it exhausting to split his concentration and hold an illusion over a long period of time. However, now that he was not touching the Casket, he didn't need his own magic to make him appear Asgardian.

Gauthild frowned.

"As you desire, Deathbringer," the small female said, with venomous sweetness.

"And you are?"

"By your favor, Jotunslayer, I am Princess Brisenndyr of Clan Brinjolf of the Vastlands." She bowed to him. "It is my honor to challenge you for the throne of Jotunheim, after you have vanquished Gauthild."

Gauthild added, "And it will be my honor to die by your sword, Avenger of —"

Loki held up a hand. "So, I must fight for my claim to Jotunheim."

Gauthild and Brisenndyr exchanged a look.

The ancient Frost Giant shuffled to Loki's side. He was so shrunken and stooped with age that he stood only only a little above Loki's own height. The ridges in his skin were nearly hidden among his creases and wrinkles.

"That is the way it is done, Sword of Asgard," he said in a cracked voice. "It has always been done this way. Laufey killed Kolfinn. You have killed Laufey, and Laufey's throne would have been yours, had you claimed it while Laufey's blood still steamed hot." He lifted a gnarled hand to his chest. "I am Thistilbardi. I was captain of King Kolfinn's royal guard."

Loki's eyebrows went up. Laufey had ruled Jotunheim for several thousand years. Thistilbardi was ancient indeed. Older than Loki himself.

"I see," said Loki. Then to Gauthild, he said, "I must kill you." He gestured at Brisenndyr. "And you. And how many more besides?" He flicked his hand at Thistilbardi. "You?"

Thistilbardi uttered a low, wheezing growl. Loki realized was a laugh.

Gauthild said, "Only we two, Sword of Asgard. Laufey left no heir. Traditionally, it would be only me, but our recent treaty with the Vastlanders —" She tilted her head at Brisenndyr. "— obliges us to choose a second champion from among the alfin."

Brisenndyr said sharply, "Had the Vastlanders not petitioned Asgard for help, you and your proud ettin traditions would not be obliged to do anything but starve to death."

Gauthild bared her teeth at Brisenndyr.

Thistilbardi interposed, "Our misfortunes and our petty squabbles cannot be of interest to our Asgardian guest."

"Yes, of course. You're right," said Brisenndyr. Then she turned to Loki. "Pardon me, Jotunslayer. You have made your point, and we shall not bore you with trivialities."

"My point," Loki repeated.

"Deathbringer, how is Jotunheim to stand against Asgard, when we can barely stand at all? Your point was clear. There will be no arguments against it."

Now Loki understood that the point Brisenndyr referred to, was Loki unleashing the Bifrost on Jotunheim. He had meant to exterminate the Frost Giants, and raze Jotunheim to a smoking ruin. Thor had stopped him.

He didn't wish to kill either Gauthild or Brisenndyr. He'd never had Thor's lust for battle, and in the months since he had been brought to Asgard in chains, he'd begun to wonder if the Chitauri scepter had affected him as it had affected those he'd enslaved with it. Never once had he questioned his thirst to slaughter and destroy, nor the fact that no amount of blood was sufficient to quench the rage that burned inside him. Never once had he considered the scepter might have made him its puppet.

That was not like him. He questioned. He considered. He weighed his options to the point that Thor and the others teased him for it. Yet, no scepter had controlled him when he had sent the Destroyer to Midgard. Nor when he had tricked and murdered Laufey, nor when he'd opened the Bifrost on Jotunheim. Those dark deeds had been his alone.

"When must I fight you?" he said to Gauthild.

"At nightfall, Sword of Asgard."

Loki gestured at the darkened sky. "And how am I supposed to ascertain when nightfall occurs?"

Gauthild and Brisenndyr looked at him in puzzlement.

Thistilbardi took Loki by the arm. Loki jerked away. The last time a Frost Giant had taken hold of him, his vambrace had crumbled off his arm. But Thistilbardi's touch did no worse than startle him.

"Ah, forgive me, Sword of Asgard." Thistilbardi bowed his head. "The touch of a jotun won't harm you, unless it's intended to harm."

All the same, had Thistilbardi touched Loki's bare skin, he would have revealed Loki as a jotun without harming him, the same way the Casket revealed Loki.

"What do you want?" Loki said brusquely.

"Only to ask you to indulge an old ettin with your exalted company. I will make sure you don't miss the opportunity to feast on the hearts of your challengers. I wish only to escort you to your royal chambers. A poor offering for one accustomed to the splendor and plenty of the Realm Eternal, and for that Jotunheim must apologize."

"I'm sure it will be adequate," Loki replied.

But, his royal chambers were not what he wanted to see first in Jotunheim.

***

Wind cut across the open expanse at the base of the palace steps, and whistled eerily through the rough palisade of cracked columns and broken arches. It was cold, but not the crystalline chill Loki remembered. When he had traveled to Jotunheim before, the realm had smelled of ice and snow. Now it carried a faint but unmistakable sickly-sweet undercurrent of corruption.

Somewhere, water trickled and plinked, echoing off the towering ruins. The stones under Loki's boots were slick with slush and melting ice, and as he walked the ground cracked and crumbled beneath his footfalls.

He was obliged to slow his steps, because Thistilbardi knew where they were going, and Loki did not. The Frost Giant who had helped Thistilbardi to his feet earlier followed silently a few paces behind them.

"Jotunheim is full of dangers," Thistilbardi said. "Even for an Asgardian. Tortrigg was Laufey's captain of the guard. He will serve you faithfully."

Loki looked over his shoulder at the younger Frost Giant. "Tortrigg will not speak for himself?"

"Tortrigg has no tongue," Thistilbardi replied. "King Laufey cut it out."

"For what offense?"

"Alas, I don't know, Sword of Asgard. And Tortrigg cannot tell me."

Thistilbardi beckoned to Tortrigg, and the Frost Giant came loping up to join them. He wore only the gray kilt that most of his kind wore. His chest and limbs were crisscrossed in scars, old and not so old. He bowed his head to Loki.

Shadows darted through the ruins. Loki spied a pair of faces peering at him from behind a pillar. Children. Tall as Loki himself, but he could tell by the stubs of their horns, and their wide crimson eyes, that they weren't yet grown.

Tortrigg growled, slashing an arm at them in a "go away" gesture. They fled, footsteps pattering away over the slushy ground.

Thistilbardi pointed in the opposite direction, toward a tumble of boulders. Sliced between the rocks was a narrow passageway illuminated by the faint starlight. "There, Sword of Asgard."

"That is the temple?"

"It was."

Thistilbardi hadn't asked why Loki wanted to see the temple. Lower beings didn't ask gods why. Loki would not have known the temple for a temple, had Thistilbardi not pointed it out. The ruins all looked alike to him: dark stone spiderwebbed with cracks and starred with frost-flowers.

Thistilbardi said, "If you permit, Sword of Asgard, I will go first. The staircase is not…" He lifted one hand in a shrug. "…well-maintained."

"In that case," Loki said. "I will go first. Tortrigg will follow us."

Tortrigg nodded to Loki. The passageway between the stones was narrow. It barely qualified as a staircase. The steps had worn away nearly to a smooth slope, littered with loose stones and chunks of ice. In all the tales of Frost Giants Loki had heard, not one had told of them worshipping any god, yet Odin had said he'd found Loki abandoned in a temple.

The staircase was steep, but short. It opened into another roofless ruin. At the bottom, Loki halted in surprise, confronted by a huge mosaic on the wall, of Odin the Allfather. Even though Odin had both his eyes, he was unmistakable in his battle armor and helmet, holding his staff. The dark stone of the temple's wall had been inlaid with paler stones in shades of blue and white, to create the image.

The walls of the temple gleamed wet, streaked with mineral deposits and covered in carvings like the Casket of Ancient Winters: interlocking lines and swirls. Next to Odin stood Frigga, beautiful, even in disrepair. Bits of her white stone had crumbled away, but she was so like her living model that Loki's heart ached.

Her arms were full of flowers. Or the jotun idea of flowers, spiky and stiff, as if they'd blossomed from icicles. Loki walked over to the mosaic, his boots splashing through the water on the floor of the temple. He touched a fold of Frigga's dress, the way he'd done when he was a small child. What he'd taken for stones, were bits of ice. It crumbled under his fingers.

He wiped his hand on his coat. It seemed wrong that Thor wasn't portrayed somewhere in the temple, but Thor hadn't even been born when this ice was carefully carved and set into the walls.

Thistilbardi said, "The jotunar have not worshipped the gods of Asgard since the Allfather defeated King Laufey. It was forbidden."

Loki glanced over at the ancient Frost Giant. Tortrigg stood behind Thistilbardi, as silent and impassive as if he was another mosaic on the wall.

"What gods do you worship now?" Loki said to Thistilbardi.

"No gods, " Thistilbardi replied with a sigh. "We have endured a thousand years of civil war and ruin, as a punishment for our faithlessness." The Frost Giant's creased and craggy face lit with hope. "Are we to pray to an Asgardian once again?"

Loki replied with a shrug.

He had no idea what he'd expected to find in the temple. There were no answers here. Only a pair of crumbling mosaics no one came to gaze at anymore.

"May I offer advice, Sword of Asgard?" Thistilbardi said.

"You may."

"The Casket of Ancient Winters is no use to you. If you wish to win the hearts of Jotunheim, you would do well to return our Casket to us."  
For the first time, Thistilbardi's scratchy voice conveyed something other than affable courtesy. His advice was a warning.

"I have no use for the hearts of Jotunheim," Loki said.

***


	3. Chapter 3

Loki had been given a suite of interconnecting rooms in Laufey's palace — Loki's palace now. His royal chambers were austere, compared to the luxury of Asgard, but the walls and the high ceilings were all intact, and the furniture was appropriately-sized for someone of Asgardian proportions.

He'd slept in worse places.

There was no adornment anywhere, except for the carvings on the dark stone, the same designs as on the Casket and in the temple. It occurred to Loki that these designs were a more complicated version of the ridged markings on the Frost Giants' skin. On his own skin.

The stones of the floor were small, irregularly shaped, and fitted together into an intricate and rather beautiful jigsaw.

There were no fires laid in any of the rooms, nor any hearths to hold them. Here and there in iron cages bolted to the walls, balls of heatless blue flame flickered brightly. Loki couldn't recall seeing a tree in Jotunheim. No green growing things of any sort. Nothing but desolate, broken rock and snow-swept ice, underneath an eternal night.

For all that, the rooms were warm and dry, The bedchamber was even warmer than the outside rooms, despite its two large windows, constructed either from glass chilled by the icy air outside, or from actual ice.

The bed was enormous. Heaped in mountainous drifts of pillows and pelts, crowned by a towering headboard constructed from the interlocking tusks and horns of at least three different beasts. Asgardians didn't sleep as often as mortals, and Loki hadn't welcomed sleep in a long while, but he could certainly sleep in this bed if need be. It looked ridiculously comfortable.

The room was warm enough that a trickle of sweat began to pool in the small of his back. He was about to shed his long leather coat and vanish it, when he remembered the bundle of cloth Frigga had tucked inside. He pulled the bundle out, and sat on the bed to untie the knots. His weight sank into the pelts, and triggered a minor avalanche of pillows. When he reached out to steady himself, his hand disappeared almost entirely into white-tipped blackness. The fur felt coarse and dense, like the pelt of a bear.

He tugged the knots free, and opened the bundle on the bed beside him. Inside were four currant cakes. His favorite. When he was a child, the only thing that had stopped him eating the crumbly spicy little confections, was that he had already eaten so many of them, he was too sick to his stomach to keep eating them.

Thor loved them, too. And Thor had eaten a lot of them. He could eat far more than Loki. But, there had never been an instance, not even once, when Thor had scooped the last currant cake off a plate. The last pheasant wing, yes. The last swallow of mead in a pitcher, the last joint of mutton, the last bit of fancy marchpane, absolutely. Never the last currant cake.

Loki wanted to go home. He missed home. For a moment, longing hurt even worse than betrayal. He picked up one of the currant cakes and he ate it. It was delicious. Sweet with honey and spicy with cardamom and cloves, melting away on his tongue, insubstantial as a sunbeam. He wanted to eat the other three immediately. Instead, he folded them into the gold cloth, and he fastened the knots tightly.

***

It wasn't Thistilbardi who came to collect Loki at the arbitrary moment designated "nightfall" on Jotunheim. It was the male alfin who had knelt next to Princess Brisenndyr when Loki arrived. Tortrigg was standing in the hallway outside Loki's chambers. Loki wondered if Tortrigg had been standing there since they parted company with Thistilbardi, several hours ago.

The alfin bowed to Loki, hand on his heart. "Jotunslayer. I am Prince Breyrkekolf of Clan Brinjolf. Princess Brisenndyr and Councilor Gauthild request your presence in the great hall."

Loki stepped through the doorway. "Clan Brinjolf is Princess Brisenndyr's clan, is it not?"

"Yes, Jotunslayer. I am Brisenndyr's elder brother."

"Why am I not fighting you, then?" Loki asked, as they headed down the hallway, with Tortrigg striding behind them.

"My sister was chosen by the oracles, from among all the clans of the Vastlands."

"So, she is the alfin's fiercest fighter," Loki said, thinking of Sif: how hard she had worked to prove herself a warrior, how often she had bested Loki, and even Volstagg, in sparring matches.

Breyrkekolf's brow creased, and his crimson eyes darkened. "The oracles chose her, Jotunslayer. It is not for me to question their wisdom."

"Thistilbardi told me the jotunar worship no gods."

"They're not gods," Breyrkekolf quickly correct Loki. "They're the skulls of our ancestors. Our mother and father both told Brisenndyr she must go to the city of the ettin."

"Your dead mother and father."

"Yes, Jotunslayer."

Loki could not bring himself to ask Breyrkekolf if his mother and father had been killed by the Bifrost. Breyrkekolf didn't seem to hate Loki, or at least not with the same poisonous dedication that his sister did. That made no sense to Loki. Brisenndyr would be dead in a few hours. Breyrkekolf would not.

Loki walked with Breyrkekolf and Tortrigg to the same vast hall where he'd arrived. It was still dark and damp, and the empty pedestal meant to hold the Casket of Ancient Winters still stood empty at the front of the hall, like a silent reproach from his mother.

He walked past it, between the broken columns, and out onto the flat stone balcony, where Gauthild waited for him. Water dribbled off the sharp edge of the stone slab, onto the flight of stairs. Jotunar crowded the rubble-strewn plain outside. Most were ettin, the towering Frost Giants Loki was accustomed to, but scattered here and there were groups of the smaller alfin, like Breyrkekolf and Brisenndyr.

No whispering or murmuring rose from the crowd. The jotunar waited silently. Gauthild made Loki the same hand-over-heart obeisance as before. Instead of her long gray gown, she now wore a kilt wrapped around her waist. Covering her torso were plates of elaborately chased metal embedded in a thin sheen of ice that coated her skin.

Behind Gauthild stood Thistilbardi. Brisenndyr waited on the other side of the balcony, no longer wearing her blue gown, but dark leather armor instead.

Gauthild lowered her hand, and a long blade of ice formed in her fist, bristling with spikes, and growing swiftly until it was nearly the size of Loki.

"I won't fight you," Loki said.

Gauthild frowned. She did not waste time repeating to Loki what she had already explained: that Loki must fight for his throne. But, she didn't attack him. They both knew that if she struck first and killed a son of Odin, she would bring the wrath of Asgard down on Jotunheim.

Loki turned his back on her, to address the Frost Giants gathered below. The acoustics on the balcony were excellent. Loki was certain his refusal had been audible to the jotunar.

"This realm is mine," he said. "You have no choice in the matter. You are lower beings. I am a god, and I am your king, and I do not care about the traditions of Jotunheim." Loki paced across the balcony closer to Brisenndyr and Breyrkekolf. "I slew Laufey. I unleashed the Bifrost. My only regret is that I stopped before every last one of you misborn horrors was dead, and this realm burnt to a cinder. I have no use for your loyalty, or for your love. All I require is your fear."

He lifted his hand to the dark sky, concentrated, and gathered his magic. The Bifrost opened over the heads of the Frost Giants, ripping a huge hole in the clouds, swirling and spitting with multi-colored lightning, howling with powerful winds. The illusion was flawless.

The Frost Giants cowered and they shuddered, but to Loki's surprise, none of them fled. Perhaps they were afraid Loki would strike them down if they ran. That was beyond Loki's magic, and far beyond the power of the harmless light and sound show in the sky.

Gauthild shrank back, withdrawing her ice blade. The Bifrost swelled, and its roaring grew louder.

"Don't make me finish what I began," Loki said. "Kneel."

One by one, the Frost Giants knelt to him. Some even touched their foreheads to the wet, icy stones. Tortrigg and Thistilbardi knelt immediately with the others. Loki looked over at Brisenndyr. Her brother was already on one knee, but she still stood. Their eyes met. Even standing several yards away from her, Loki could tell she was terrified.

She bent her head and knelt. He gave a twist and flick of his hand, and the Bifrost spun inward on itself and vanished. Then he strode back inside the great hall, not looking behind him.

***


	4. Chapter 4

Footsteps made him turn. It was Tortrigg. The Frost Giant halted, pressed a hand to his heart, and bowed. Loki frowned, then kept walking. Tortrigg followed.

Loki didn't return to his chambers, but headed deeper into the palace. His palace. His tumbledown, freezing wreck of empty rooms and shattered staircases. He followed one staircase upward, his boots crunching on chips of stone. The staircase opened onto a long, narrow room broken off at a sheer drop over empty air. There was no ceiling at all, and only one wall.

A long, heavily carved stone table surrounded by massive chairs stood in the center of the room. The top of the table was level with Loki's chin. Snow had drifted in and frozen the furniture to the dirty ice covering the floor. Wind blew through the room with a hollow keening noise.

He walked the length of the room, and leaned out over the edge, looking down. He had expected another stone courtyard below, but instead there was a dizzying drop into a chasm studded with stalagmites.

He heard footsteps again. Not Tortrigg's. These were smaller and lighter. Brisenndyr walked to where he stood. Loki wasn't surprised to see her. He had expected her or Gauthild, eventually. Tortrigg followed Brisenndyr, and stood a few paces behind her.

"What is this place?" Loki asked.

He found it difficult to look at Brisenndyr or her brother. They were monstrous. Even more so than Gauthild or Tortrigg, or Thistilbardi.

"I have no idea," Brisenndyr replied. "A banquet hall, perhaps? I doubt King Laufey ever used it." She glanced at Tortrigg, who remained as craggy and impassive as the landscape outside. "I can't imagine there were many banquets during Laufey's reign."

Loki gestured at the leather armor she wore. It had been made from something with a thick, warty hide. "Is it your turn now? Or does Gauthild get another run at me first?"

"I thought you didn't care for ettin traditions," Brisenndyr said.

"I don't," Loki replied. "But it hardly matters if —"

Brisenndyr spun swiftly, jabbing her arm at Tortrigg. Ice billowed from her, not in a blade shape, but in a flat shield. She swung it upward, clipping Tortrigg under the jaw before he could do more than look startled. She struck her other hand against the ice-crusted leg of a chair. Pellets of ice flew at Loki, sharp as needles. He flung up a hand to protect his face. Tortrigg collapsed full length on the stone floor with a heavy thud. Brisenndyr hurled her ice shield at Loki.

Even before he struck it out of the air, shattering it, she sprang for him. She was fast. Much faster than a midgardian. Loki barely avoided her ice blade slicing into his stomach. Breyrkekolf had seemed so concerned. So sure Loki would kill her.

Brisenndyr rounded on him, and Loki backhanded her across the face. The blow knocked her off her feet. She went sliding across the ice and crashed against the legs of the table. He hid his hand in the folds of his coat. He had only touched Brisenndyr for a moment, but he didn't look down to see if that had been long enough to counteract Odin's magic.

It might not matter anyway. He'd hit her with his full strength. He might have killed her.

When he picked his way across the icy floor to make certain, he discovered he had only stunned her. She lay looking up at him, her crimson eyes murderous.

"Get up," Loki said. "I'll pretend you're a challenge."

"Asgardian demon," she spat at him. "Kill me."

"I'd much rather play with you."

"And I would rather be dead, than see you finish destroying Jotunheim."

"Suit yourself," Loki said.

A huge blue-gray hand closed around his wrist and squeezed. Loki pulled free of Tortrigg's grasp easily, but it was too late. The skin of his right hand and and wrist were fading slowly from blue to his normal skin tone.

Tortrigg didn't try to stop him again. He hadn't been trying to stop Loki at all.

"You." Loki's voice came out in a strangled gasp. _"You."_ He hadn't recognized Tortrigg. How could he have? He'd fought the Frost Giant in snowy darkness, surrounded by dozens of other Frost Giants. "I killed you!"

But, he hadn't. He'd stabbed Tortrigg, and the scar from his dagger strike stood out as a jagged ridge on Tortrigg's chest, at a level with Loki's eyes.

Behind him, Brisenndyr scrambled to her feet. Loki spun around. The look on her face was — it was not what he wanted to see. He had never wanted to see that. Not from a jotun. Not from her. Not with the mark of his hand still standing out on her cheek.

"How you must pity me," Loki snarled at her. "How satisfying that must be for you. How _luxurious._ "

"Sire," she said.

Loki laughed. "What? No Deathbringer, now? No Jotunslayer?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He walked away from them, toward the far end of the banquet hall, and stood at the broken edge of the floor, the tips of his boots poking out over the drop. The wind ruffled his hair and billowed his long coat behind him.

Now he understood why Tortrigg had offered his loyalty. Loki had bested him in battle. And the offense for which Laufey cut out Tortrigg's tongue? It might have been that Tortrigg had told his king that one of Asgardians was a jotun. The son Laufey had abandoned to die. Loki, the lost prince of Jotunheim.

Or, Tortrigg might have been the Frost Giant who'd called Thor a little princess.

There was no point in Loki killing Tortrigg or Brisenndyr. If he killed every one of the jotunar, it would not change the fact that he was jotun. He was sick of blood and killing, sick of death, and sick of war, and sick of existence. He'd lived a thousand years, and he was still a young god. Eternity had never seemed like a curse, until now.

Brisenndyr would tell the other Frost Giants what Loki was, and Loki bore her no ill will for that. He would have done the same, in her position. But, if the Frost Giants killed him, they would lose their Casket of Ancient Winters forever.

***

The morning after Loki refused to fight Gauthild, he discovered the difference between Jotunheim's nighttime and its daytime. Near dawn, the pages of the book under his hands began to blush a subtle shade of lavender, like the inside of an oyster shell. Loki glanced up. The balls of blue fire were dimming in their iron cages, and the dark stone walls sparkled with flecks of mica.

He set _The Memoirs of Jarnglumra, Son of Jarlgabrun_ carefully on the bed beside him. The book was one of very few in the palace library not destroyed by damp and mold, but it was still ancient and delicate.

Loki went to his window, which looked out not on the rubble-strewn plain, but across the deep chasm instead. Over the sharp-toothed ruins flickered a faint and faraway sun that did little save lengthen the shadows and lighten the sky from black to midnight blue.

Several hours later, Tortrigg knocked, and the opened the outer door to Loki's chambers, admitting an ettin child in a garment wrapped the way Gauthild's had been. The child could not even bring herself to look at Loki, as she held out a folded paper to him. She bowed, and remained with her head down and one fist clutched against her heart.

Loki took the folded paper from her, careful not to touch the tips of her trembling fingers.

"What are you called?" he said.

"Y-Yutta, Sword of Asgard," she whispered.

"Yutta, you may go."

The child spun and darted out the door, past Tortrigg, and down the hall.

The paper contained a message from Gauthild, written in carefully printed, but passable Asgardian, requesting Loki's presence at a meeting to appoint Loki's royal council. How many councilors he preferred, how many of them should be ettin, how many alfin, and what each councilor should be given charge of.

There were other agenda points below. Reconstruction. Refugees. Distribution of supplies. Negotiations with the alfin clans of the Vastlands. Nothing more.

Tortrigg had kept his silence about Loki being jotun, because Tortrigg could not do otherwise. Brisenndyr's silence was voluntary. She had also kept it, and Loki did not know why.

He tossed the paper onto the narrow stone table set near the door.

Then he left his chambers, with with Tortrigg trailing stolidly after him. Every jotun he met, ettin or alfin, averted their eyes and bowed to him, then removed themselves from his path as quickly as possible. Loki returned to the library he'd discovered the previous night. It was as dark, cold and cavernous as the rest of the palace, but the walls were lined with shelves and cubbyholes, crammed with books and scrolls. The room smelled of moldy parchment and decaying leather.

There was a library in Odin's palace. Much larger, but much the same. Loki had spent hours there, reading tales and histories of Asgard, all the dusty books that no one else looked at. None of Thor's friends understood why Loki wanted to spend any time in the library. They were impatient enough with the books their tutors made them read. All they wanted to do was fight and fuck, and then feast while telling tales of their glorious fighting and fucking.

Loki lifted a book from the shelf. It was spotted with mold, the pages swollen and the ink blurred. He peeled it gently open. It was written in the same complicated swoops and slashes as _The Memoirs of Jarnglumra, Son of Jarlgabrun_. Loki brushed his hand over the damp title page, and the book revealed itself as, _Concerning the the Matter of the Ambassadors from Muspelheim, Decided by the Council of Queen Eslif, After Much Deliberation._

He was not expecting to find answers in the library, any more than he had in the temple. That he had a library, pleased him. That it was falling apart… well, perhaps something could be done to save it.

Perhaps he could do something. Odin hadn't stripped him of his powers, as he'd done with Thor, when he'd banished Thor to Midgard. Loki still wasn't sure why he'd escaped being rendered mortal. It would have been a much more expedient punishment — albeit probably much briefer.

_Odin might have hoped you'd make yourself useful. For a change._

That thought was unexpected, and unpalatable, and it was the type of thought Thor would have. Loki shut the book in his hand with an irritated snap.

Tortrigg's shadow eclipsed the light from the hallway, stretching across the long table in the center of the library. When Loki turned, he saw Breyrkekolf in the doorway; Breyrkekolf noticed Loki in the shadows between two of the blue flame cages on the wall, and the corners of his mouth curved in surprised pleasure. Today he wore gray. A hip-length coat trimmed in black fur, and trousers tucked into low boots of the same heavy hide as Brisenndyr's armor. He looked a lot more comfortable than he had in his embroidery-crusted finery.

"Good morning, Jotunslayer," he said as he walked over to where Loki stood. "Did you pass a peaceful night?"

"Uneventful," Loki replied.

He couldn't tell from Breyrkekolf's friendly demeanor whether Brisenndyr had told him what had occurred the previous night. Breyrkekolf might simply be pleased that Loki hadn't slain his sister. The two were very much alike in looks. Enough to be twins.

He said, "I would've thought you'd be at Gauthild's council meeting."

Breyrkekolf glanced away from him. "There was no council meeting without you, Jotunslayer," he said, and then he indicated the book in Loki's hand. "You read ettin, I see."

"I read everything," Loki replied. He set the book back on the shelf next to its fellows. "Tell me about the alfin."

"Certainly. What do you wish to know?"

"I thought there was only one race of jotunar. The giants."

"The alfin are half ettin," Breyrkekolf replied, "and half dokkalf."

"The dokkalfar are extinct," Loki said.

"Yes. Now they are." Breyrkekolf inclined his head. "Let me show you."

"There are records kept here about the alfin?"

Breyrkekolf laughed. "I'm sure King Laufey kept a running tally of how many of us he killed," he said over his shoulder, as he walked deeper into the library. "But there also is an excellent map. Here."

He halted, moving aside for Loki to stand beside him. Beneath a bank of windows, a map of the realm was set into the floor, in much the same way that the jigsaw on the floor of Loki's rooms had been created. Several different colors of stone had been used to form the map. Breyrkekolf walked across the southern plains of Jotunheim, which were dotted with settlements.

"Your palace is here, he said. "East of the the Vastlands where the alfin clans live." Breyrkekolf stepped a bit further east toward the edge of the map. "Dokkalfheim lies between Jotunheim and Alfheim. Here." With the toe of his boot, he indicated a darkly inlaid ridge of mountains at the edge of the map. "This is the border between the land of the jotunar and the land of the dokkalfar. I have never been there, but it is said one can look through the barrier, into Dokkalfheim."

Loki shook his head. "Two realms cannot sit shoulder to shoulder like two ships in harbor. If you can look from Jotunheim into Dokkalfheim, then this barrier between the realms is actually a passage through the sea of chaos. Dokkalfheim is likely millions, or even billions of miles from Jotunheim."

Breyrkekolf's eyes widened. "Truly, Jotunslayer?"

"Truly," Loki said.

"That explains why the ettin fear it. Even we won't go there, if we can avoid it. It's not a good place."

Breyrkekolf shrugged, but Loki nodded his understanding. If the Bifrost were left open for too long, it could destroy a realm. Other forces could rip a thin place between two realms, and leave a wound behind.

Loki said, "What happened in Dokkalfheim?"

Breyrkekolf explained, "When King Laufey made his conquest of the Nine Realms a thousand years ago, the armies of Jotunheim and Alfheim fought in Dokkalfheim, until the alfar drove back the jotunar. But Dokkalfheim was destroyed. All the dokkalfar were slaughtered, except for those Laufey brought back to Jotunheim as slaves. Those dokkalfar died in the cold. Some survived long enough to bear half-ettin children." He pressed a hand to his chest. "The alfin. Laufey's soldiers killed all of us they could. Even after we began to fight back."

"A thousand years of civil war," Loki said, repeating what Thistilbardi had told him the night before.

"Skirmishes," Breyrkekolf replied. "If the Allfather hadn't taken the Casket from Jotunheim, the alfin would be as dead as the dokkalfar, I have no doubt." Then his face brightened. "My sister can take you to see this… this passage through the sea of chaos, if you like."

Loki had no desire to cross a trackless waste and gaze upon a dead realm. There was no point in that, but he said, "Your sister? Why not you?"

"Alas, Jotunslayer," Breyrkekolf replied with a smile. "I am a deep shame to our people. I am not a skilled rider."

"There are horses in Jotunheim?" Loki said, surprised.

"What is a horse?"

Loki had intended to answer with, _a beast bred for riding._ But, that was unhelpful.

Breyrkekolf offered, "Jotunheim has grimulfs."

He crossed the map on the floor again, toward the western Vastlands, which were inlaid with what Loki had dismissed in a quick glance as hills. In fact, they were groups of ferocious-looking creatures with humped backs, horns and thick legs.

"Are they like your horses?" Breyrkekolf asked.

"Not in the slightest," Loki said. In fact, they looked a bit like bilgesnipes.

***


	5. Chapter 5

Several days later, he changed his mind about riding to Dokkalfheim.

He was bored. So terribly bored. He had been bored in Asgard, waiting for Odin to decide his punishment. He had been left alone, to go where he pleased and do as he liked — as long as where he pleased to go was no farther than the door to his own chambers, and what he liked to do was meditate upon his misdeeds. That had been boredom in a familiar environment, with an expectation of an end date.

Messages arrived daily from Gauthild. Loki ignored each one. After the third message, Tortrigg brought the folded paper to Loki directly.

Loki put aside _Rifinglafin's Quest_ , and unfolded yet another message. A polite request to attend yet another royal council meeting. He leaned back in his chair, looking past Tortrigg to where little Yutta lurked in the hall, twisting the folds of her dress in both hands.

He crooked his fingers at her. "Yutta. Come here."

The ettin child hurried into the room, halting several feet from where Loki sat, her eyes downcast. Apparently, this was the minimum safe distance from an Asgardian demon.

"I won't hurt you," Loki said impatiently. He'd never been good with children.

Frigga's parcel of golden cloth sat on the table by Loki's elbow, the top of the fabric loosely twisted around the two remaining currant cakes. He picked up the cloth and opened it, holding it out to Yutta.

"These are sweets from Asgard. Would you like one?"

Yutta studied the currant cakes, and then she lifted her gaze to meet Loki's. Tentatively, she reached out, and took one of the currant cakes. She took a small, experimental bite. Her brow crinkled, and Loki was certain she'd hand the rest of the cake right back to him, but she ate it in two bites.

"Thank you, sire," she said softly.

"Do you know the alfin princess? Brisenndyr?"

Yutta nodded emphatically.

"I want you to find her. Tell her to come here to me."

"Yes, Sword of Asgard."

Yutta bobbed Loki another bow, and scampered out of the room. Tortrigg didn't follow her out. Loki looked up at the Frost Giant, who gazed down at him inscrutably. Tortrigg grunted, then walked away.

Loki was more than halfway done with _Rifinglafin's Quest_ , before Tortrigg opened the door to admit Brisenndyr. They had not seen one another since the night in Kolfinn's abandoned banquet hall. Instead of her formal gown or her leather armor, Brisenndyr wore an outfit similar to those Breyrkekolf favored, save that her dusky violet jacket was cropped at the waist and, rather than trousers, she wore a long, full skirt over soft-soled boots. He was struck again by her strong resemblance to her brother.

"Breyrkekolf said you would take me to the border of Dokkalfheim," Loki said.

Brisenndyr recoiled slightly in surprise. "I… of course, sire. Any time you wish."

"I wish to go now."

"It's still early enough in the day." Her gaze swept over him, and her eyes narrowed. "You and my brother are about the same size. I'll bring you something more appropriate to wear." She indicated Loki's long coat and his metal-chased leather clothing underneath it. "The ride can be muddy."

"I don't get muddy," said Loki. "I'm a god."

"Well," Brisenndyr replied. "I'm not."

She no longer looked at him with poorly veiled loathing. Her attitude was not precisely friendly, either. There was a midgardian figure of speech that perfectly described her cautious courtesy; he had learned it from Clint Barton. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Loki held up a finger to her. "Half an hour. No more."

When she came to collect him, Brisenndyr wore the same leather armor she'd worn to challenge him: a vest and breeches of dark, pebbled hide, and a pair of high boots fastened with a row of brass buckles. The boots now had sharp spurs attached to both the toes and the heels, and she carried a long-handled whip, swinging it casually in one hand by its wrist loop.

He and Brisenndyr headed down the hallway with him, Tortrigg following.

"Getting muddy isn't your only concern, I see," Loki said, nodding his head at the whip in her hand.

"Asgard has no grimulfs, sire?"

Loki shook his head. "Your brother showed me a picture of a grimulf. We have bilgesnipes in Asgard. They are very similar. Though, to my knowledge, no one has ever tamed and ridden a bilgesnipe."

"Sire, if you will accept advice, I recommend you ride with me. It would be —" Brisenndyr hesitated, as if she'd been about to tell Loki it would be safer. " — more expedient," she concluded.

Loki didn't argue. He was capable on a horse. Leaping onto Fiolett's back and and galloping across the golden fields and the rolling green hills of Asgard was one pastime he had never tired of. But, he remembered how many times he'd fallen out of the saddle when he'd first learned to ride. How the riding master had encouraged him to put his foot back in the stirrup and try once more. How he had been unseated again, and had tried again, until at last he almost never fell. It would be stupid to attempt riding an animal he'd never ridden before, all the way to the border of Dokkalfheim, a journey that had to be started early in the day.

Brisenndyr led him through the rear of the palace, into the drizzling dimness of a Jotunheim morning. He followed her through a maze of outbuildings to the pens where the grimulfs were kept.

He'd encountered a beast like this, when he had followed Thor and the others to Jotunheim. Gray and warty-hided, with horns protruding from the sides of its jaws Except that beast had been bigger. Much bigger.

Five of the grimulfs stood in an open corral of stone posts driven into the stony ground. The corral didn't look strong enough to hold them, but they seemed content to paw at the slush, or roar at the cloudy sky. Some were a darker shade than the others, or had stripes and blotches of deeper gray on their hides.

A young ettin wearing a leather kilt stood outside the corral with a bucket in one hand, tossing scraps of something dark and slimy over the fence. The grimulfs grunted and shoved one another to get the food.

When the young ettin caught sight of Brisenndyr and Loki, he bowed briskly. "Good morning to you, Sword of Asgard."

Loki nodded to him.

The ettin grinned at Brisenndyr. "Good morning, Princess. You'll be wanting Ooskoo, I expect."

Brisenndyr smiled back at him. She had a smile like Breyrkekolf's. "Morning, Freyrik. Yes; Ooskoo, and..." She raised her eyebrows at Tortrigg. "Nafnaf threw you last week, didn't he?"

Tortrigg grunted, as if to say Nafnaf had quickly regretted that.

"All right," she said, then turned to Freyrik. "Two ettin saddles. His Majesty will be riding with me."

Freyrik bowed again. "At once." He went running off toward the stables.

Brisenndyr walked closer to the pen full of grimulfs. Loki trailed after her, looking around at the stable yard. It was similar to the one in Odin's palace, except here, the buildings were larger, to accommodate the grimulfs, and they were built of black stone.

"Are these your bilgesnipe of Asgard?" Brisenndyr asked.

"No. I have seen a beast such as this before, except the one I saw was far larger. My brother slew it." His choice of words stung him like a snake. He'd spoken without thinking.

Brisenndyr said, "The female grimulfs are far larger than the males. King Laufey used to keep a female he called Hildigunnd. He had to restrain her in ice, by magic. The female grimulfs cannot be tamed. If you want a pet, sire, I'd advise against your following his example."

"I won't be following Laufey's example in any respect," Loki said, his voice betraying more anger than he'd intended.

"I am gratified to hear it," Brisenndyr replied, and again, for her courtesy, Loki hated her a little. It hadn't even been a week since he'd struck her hard enough to knock her to the floor of Laufey's banquet hall.

She gestured at the pen full of grunting, snuffling males. "When the ettin have need of grimulfs to ride, they come to us — I mean the alfin breeders — to buy the males we've already broken in." She put her hands on her hips. " Hildigunnd wouldn't even mate with the males in the royal stables, so I'm told. A waste of effort all around."

Freyrik returned, leading two grimulfs by their reins. Both beasts were saddled, and while the saddles were approximately the same type Loki was accustomed to, they were much larger. He and Brisenndyr would fit into one of them easily.

The grimulfs trundled amiably after Freyrik through the slush in the stable yard, until the beast on Freyrik's right tossed up his massive head and let loose with an earsplitting bellow.

Freyrik yanked sharply on the rope bridle. "Ooskoo. Down."

Ooskoo roared again, though this time more softly, and somewhat mournfully. Brisenndyr walked over to the grimulf, and reached up to pat it between its eyes. Ooskoo crooned at her. She looked back over her shoulder at Loki.

"Ooskoo is friendly," she said.

The grimulf standing to Freyrik's left rumbled in its throat as Tortrigg approached it. Tortigg growled back at it.

Brisenndyr added, "Watch out for Nafnaf. He bites."

Loki approached Ooskoo. The grimulf lifted his huge snout and snorted, nostrils flaring. Hot breath puffed over Loki. It smelled like rotting meat. He raised a hand and patted Ooskoo as Brisenndyr had. The grimulf's hide was rough and pebbled under his palm. Ooskoo shoved against Loki's hand.

Brisenndyr slapped Ooskoo lightly on the flank with her whip. "No," she said in a low, warning tone. "He'll knock you over, sire. He won't mean to. He just doesn't know how big his head is."

"Very much like a horse," said Loki.

"What is a horse?" Brisenndyr said.

Loki shook his head. "Never mind."

Brisenndyr tucked her whip under her arm, then pulled her gloves from her belt and slipped them on. Freyrik handed Nafnaf's reins to Tortrigg. Tortrigg swung himself up onto Nafnaf's saddle and settled his feet in the stirrups. Relative to Tortrigg's height, the grimulf was about the size of a large horse. But, Ooskoo's shoulder was a good distance above Loki's head.

"Ooskoo," Brisenndyr said. "Kneel."

Ooskoo obeyed, bending his front legs. He stretched out his huge right paw, splaying its thick, curved claws to grip the ground.

"Good," Brisenndyr told the grimulf. "Good kneel."

She set her boot on the grimulf's paw and, disdaining the dangling stirrup, leapt lightly into the saddle. Ooskoo began to heave himself to his feet.

"No," she said sharply.

The grimulf stopped immediately. The red eye closest to Loki swiveled from beneath its overhanging brow, to fix on him. Loki stepped around to Ooskoo's side. Brisenndyr gathered the reins in one hand, and reached down for Loki with the other. To jump onto the grimulf's back would've been easy, but Loki put his boot on the top of Ooskoo's paw, and grasped Brisenndyr's gloved hand, allowing her to pull him up.

He settled behind her. He had enough room to sit comfortably, but he was pressed against Brisenndyr, her back against his stomach and his chest. It made him uncomfortable, though not in the way he'd assumed it would.

Brisenndyr glanced over her shoulder. "Sire. Hold on. To the cantle, or to me. Freyrik and I are still working with Ooskoo, and he hasn't entirely grasped the concept of 'up' yet."

Loki nodded, and reached back to grip the cantle with one hand.

"Ooskoo," she said. "Up!"

Ooskoo obeyed with a rumbling grunt. The grimulf heaved himself sharply forward, then rolled to the left, pulling his extended foot underneath him. That accomplished, Ooskoo reared up, then thudded down to his front feet, and shook his head vigorously, his tack jingling.

Brisenndyr clucked her tongue and kicked him in the flanks. Ooskoo answered Brisenndyr with a noise between a hoot and a roar, and lunged forward a lot more briskly than Loki expected. The grimulf's gait was nothing like a horse's, however. Ooskoo swayed like a ship in a gale.

Tortrigg reined Nafnaf around and kicked him with his bare feet. Nafnaf headed out of the stableyard, and Ooskoo ambled in Nafnaf's wake, staying far enough behind that he avoided Nafnaf's spiked tail.

Once they had left the narrow road that led out of the stableyard, they entered another landscape of ruins. Tortrigg spurred Nafnaf into a trot. Ooskoo uttered a mournful groan, but kept himself to a walk.

"Good boy," Brisenndyr said.

She gave Ooskoo a snap on the flank with her whip, and he accelerated into a shambling, bone-shaking trot, each impact of his paws sending up gushes of icy mud. They passed through the ruined outskirts of the palace, and a rolling plane spread out around them almost as far as Loki could see. A range of mountains rose in the distance. The wind swept across the plain, cold and biting, but sweet with the smells of rain and frost.

Brisenndyr edged Ooskoo to the left of Nafnaf, so she and Tortrigg rode side by side. Ooskoo tugged at the reins, tossing his head.

Tortrigg looked over at Brisenndyr, and his craggy face split in a grin.

"No," Brisenndyr said. "Absolutely not. Have you gone mad?"

The Frost Giant gave an indifferent shrug, and swung around to face forward in Nafnaf's saddle.

"Oh, I see," Loki said. "Tortrigg thinks Nafnaf is swifter than Ooskoo."

"We are _not_ having a race," said Brisenndyr.

Loki smacked his hand down hard on Ooskoo's rump. Ooskoo bellowed and sprang forward with a lunge that nearly unseated Loki, who had no stirrups. Brisenndyr swore. Loki grabbed her around the waist, and Ooskoo broke into a gallop, paws pounding the ground.

Tortrigg roared and spurred Nafnaf after them. Brisenndyr bent in the saddle, giving Ooskoo another flick of the whip. Loki couldn't be sure, but he thought she might have whispered in the grimulf's ear.

Ooskoo lengthened his stride. He began to make a rhythmic _whuff-whuff-whuff_ noise, but Loki could tell the grimulf wasn't straining. He was running easily. Brisenndyr might even be holding him back.

Nafnaf caught them almost instantly and kept pace. The wind slapped at Loki's cheeks and whipped through his hair, and the ground rushed under him in a gray and black mottled blur of ice and rock. Sprays of slush and mud flew up to coat Ooskoo's flanks and Brisenndyr's boots and Loki as well. Despite what he'd told Brisenndyr earlier, he quickly became soaked and muddy up to his thighs. Tortrigg was grinning as if he knew Nafnaf would win. Loki tightened his hold on Brisenndyr's waist. She felt warm pressed up against him.

"Faster," he said in her ear.

She didn't use her whip this time. She tucked her spurs into Ooskoo's sides instead. Ooskoo surged forward, pulling ahead of Nafnaf easily. Either Nafnaf or Tortrigg roared from behind them; Loki didn't look back to find out. The grimulfs raced across the broad plain, plunging down hills and leaping up slopes, and Ooskoo, for all his bulk, was surprisingly nimble at evading the outcroppings of sheer rock and spikes of ice that dotted their path.

Nafnaf crashed along behind them, drawing nearly to Ooskoo's nose, but not quite able to match Ooskoo's speed. They raced until Ooskoo began to puff and heave, until his grunts grew harsher. Loki didn't know grimulfs, but he knew horses. He had known horses who would run until their hearts burst and their legs crumpled, because their riders asked it of them.

Brisenndyr slowed Ooskoo to a walk. Nafnaf charged ahead of them, until Tortrigg reined the grimulf in, and then the two beasts traveled side by side. Loki's boots and his coat were no longer green and black, but gray. He was probably muddy all over. Brisenndyr and Tortrigg certainly were. Brisenndyr had mud in her hair.

Tortrigg motioned to Loki as if to say, _I thought gods didn't get muddy._

Loki flicked a hand at himself. The mud on his clothes disappeared. Tortrigg threw back his head and roared a great, gravelly laugh.

***


	6. Chapter 6

They rode until the terrain changed dramatically. The slopes became sharper, the outcroppings of rock grew more numerous, higher, more jagged and more sheer, blasted into fantastical shapes by the wind; black and shiny and wet from the ceaseless drizzle. The ground under the grimulfs' paws turned runnelled and pitched and uneven, studded with sharp stones, and then the wind dropped. The silence was deep and unbroken, save for the creak of saddle leather, and the flat slaps of the grimulfs' footfalls.

The sweeping plain they'd raced across and left behind was empty and windswept, yet it did not have this air of eerie isolation. Brisenndyr's body had tensed against Loki's. Tortrigg had lost his easy posture and his humor. He sat stiffly upright in Nafnaf's saddle, his gaze never still. Loki was not afraid, but he understood why the jotunar wouldn't come here.

Brisenndyr said, "We are near Dokkalfheim." She pitched her voice low, as if she feared to disturb the sepulchral silence.

Tortrigg pulled Nafnaf to a halt, and Brisenndyr reined Ooskoo beside Nafnaf. Ooskoo lowered his head and nosed the ground.

"The grimulfs should rest," Brisenndyr said. "We can walk to the border. It isn't far. Ooskoo. Down."

Ooskoo managed down better than he managed up. Loki swung his leg over the cantle, and jumped to the ground. Brisenndyr kicked her boots out of the stirrups, making use of Ooskoo's paw as a stepstool. She stepped away from the grimulf, stamped her feet, and rubbed her thighs.

Tortrigg strode over to them. He tapped his own chest, and pointed at the ground. He was not going with them.

Loki raised his eyebrows. "Tortrigg, are you afraid to stay by yourself?"

Tortrigg huffed a rumbling sigh, and gestured at Loki; the Frost Giant was afraid, but not for himself.

Loki said to Brisenndyr, "What is beyond here?"

"Nothing."

"There is nothing to fear, yet both of you are afraid."

She regarded Loki, dark crimson eyes serious. There was a spray of mud drying across her left cheekbone and her ear.

"We're mortal," she said.

Brisenndyr and Loki left Tortrigg behind with the grimulfs, and ascended a steep hill littered in knife-edged shards of white rock that crumbled like chalk under their boots. At the top, Loki realized what he had taken for a hill was a cliff. The crest was about as wide as Tortrigg, and at the edge, the ground plummeted into blackness.

Dokkalfheim shimmered through veils of shifting, multicolored light, bleeding its desolation into Jotunheim. The corruption leaking from the dead realm was weak, but enough that Loki could feel the maggot-wriggling wrongness and rot of Dokkalfheim flowing past him.

Beyond the veils spread a red desert of endless sand, forming and reforming itself in swooping dunes. Faint, blurry shadows moved among the dunes. They changed form, flowing into one another and breaking apart again. Loki could not discern their sizes or even their numbers.

"Princess," he said.

"Sire?"

He pointed. "What are those?"

"What are what, sire?"

"The shadows."

Brisenndyr was silent for a moment. "I can't see them," she said, finally. "Some alfin say they've seen ghosts walking in the red waste. I thought those were only tales told to chill our bones."

Curious, Loki asked, "Can you see the barrier? The light?"

"All I see is the dead land."

She walked away from Loki a little way along the ridge, then she nudged a loose rock over the edge of the cliff, and watched as it rolled and clattered away, dislodging more rocks as it went. A small landslide of silt and stones slithered into the gulf.

Loki said, "Why did you tell no one I'm a jotun?"

Brisenndyr looked up at him in surprise.

"I know," he added, "that it's not because you fear my anger, or that I'll kill you."

"Why _didn't_ you kill me?"

"There was no point."

He didn't elaborate. There was no more tiresome tale than someone recounting the many ways the world had wronged them.

She said, "Did you not consider that if I told the jotunar, they might kill you?"

"I still have the Casket."

Brisenndyr snorted, and rolled her eyes.

Loki blinked at her, nonplussed.

"Dangling the Casket out of our reach isn't the advantage you suppose it to be," Brisenndyr told him. "Jotunheim has been without the Casket for a thousand years. Even if you did give it back, it will be centuries before its magic can heal Jotunheim. Centuries won't be time enough to repair the damage you caused with the Bifrost." She kicked another rock over the lip of the ridge. "Jotunheim is dying. Even you must see that. Soon this realm will be exactly like Dokkalfheim. Ghosts and shadows."

"You might as well have told everyone what I am." Loki fought to keep his voice steady, to keep it from rising with anger. "Jotunheim would have been rid of me, and my death would have cost you nothing."

She walked away from him, to look out across the wide, icy openness they'd left behind. "I meant to tell Gauthild. At first. I nearly did, but I could not shame you like that." She shrugged. "It is vindictive. And small. It is not how my parents raised me." 

Loki couldn't speak. A vast ache, a crushing pressure, spread in his chest. He couldn't put a name to it. Rage twisted in it like a white-hot wire around his heart, but it was something else as well, something deeper, and far more painful.

He focused on Brisenndyr's back. The gray flaking mud on her boots, on her breeches, striped and spattered up her bare arms, obscuring the ridges and whorls on her blue skin. The outline of where he had pressed close to her, in the dip of the ettin saddle.

"Sire," she said, "I don't know what it is like to rule as a god. I'll never see Asgard. I can only tell you what I know from here, with my feet in the ice and the mud of this realm full of... what did you call us? Misborn horrors. I know you said you only have need of our fear. But, if the jotunar learned what you truly are, they would not seek your death. They would give you their love and their loyalty."

"Really?" Loki said sarcastically. "Even though I am the son of Laufey?"

Brisenndyr swung around. She opened her mouth, and then she shut it again. And then she dropped to one knee on the ground, and bent her head to him.

"Get up!" Loki snarled at her. "Stand up!"

She rose to her feet. Loki folded his arms across his chest. It was all he could do not to walk away from her. Down the steep slope to the spreading plain beyond, and continue walking, until he dropped from exhaustion.

"King Laufey," she said quietly, "never got past losing his conquest of the Nine Realms to the Allfather. Or the loss of the Casket. He was a cruel king. Jotunheim needs --"

"What does it matter?" Loki cut her off. "Jotunheim is dying."

***

Even before Loki opened the door, he could hear Tortrigg snoring. Inside the royal chambers, it sounded like the crash and roar of the ocean. The Frost Giant sat sleeping with his back against the wall, and his muscular arms crossed over his chest. Loki stepped across the long legs that stretched across the threshold of the door. Tortrigg stirred, as if sensing him. Loki brushed a hand over Tortrigg's eyes.

"Sleep deeply," he murmured "All is well."

The Frost Giant's head lolled onto his shoulder.

Loki walked to the great hall. No one was there to meet him now. It was the deepest hour of night, and the nights in Jotunheim were deep indeed. He crossed the empty hall toward the pedestal at the far end, his footsteps echoing.

He gestured, and the Casket of Ancient Winters appeared in his hands. Its power reached for Loki. It sang to to his Asgardian heart and his jotun blood. Carefully, he set it on its stone pedestal. The base of the pedestal began to glow soft blue.

He let his hands fall away, and stood listening to it sing, watching its lights shimmer and pulse like a heartbeat. What else was he to do? Every choice he made was wrong. Even the choices he made deliberately, _because_ they were wrong — even those choices twisted in his hands, flourished like a poison garden, and he could do nothing but laugh at the results, like the liar he was. Enough.

He brought both hands down on the icy, glassy surface of the Casket. What the Casket could do in centuries, a god might accomplish in minutes. All it would cost Loki was everything he had to give.

Asgard, he thought. Galloping Fiolett across the green hills and golden fields. The leather and vellum smell of old books unread. Currant cakes, so sweet he could almost taste them on his tongue. His mother's scent. His mother's face. Thor clapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him close — no. No, not that.

He poured his power into the Casket. His magic. His mind. His heart. His pain, his anger, and his fear. The Casket's song grew louder, deeper, no longer a sweet crystalline ringing, but a braid of sounds both bright and dark. It consumed Loki, embracing him, filling him with icy cold. Breathtaking, fathomless cold. Too late, he tried to yank his hands off the Casket. It held onto him. It flayed the skin from him with a million freezing blades, chilled his blood and sheared the meat and vitals from him, until his skeleton gleamed pristine, unfeeling, and immutably cold.

His mind flew from Laufey's ruined palace, and raced in a thousand directions. His sight grew keener than ever before. He saw everything. Every ruin, every crack, every blossom of frost. Every icicle clinging to the underside of a rock, every flake of snow that had ever fallen. Everything he had destroyed with the Bifrost. Everything Odin had destroyed by stealing the Casket a thousand years ago.

 _More._ The Casket sang to him for more. Loki had more to give, and he gave it. His power and the Casket's power, the braid of singing, shrieking elemental energy, pierced Jotunheim, flooded through the realm, and spun inside each atom.

Loki was suddenly, horribly aware tht he still had a physical form. Black agony exploded behind his eyes. Blood burst out of his nose, shockingly hot, and gushed down his lips and chin. The Casket ripped him inside out, scoured him empty and raw, until he had nothing left to give it. He staggered back, releasing the Casket because his body couldn't hold him upright any longer.

He fell to his knees, catching himself with one hand. With the last of his strength, he lifted his head, opened his eyes, and he saw a sapphire sky scattered with stars. The wide courtyard outside the palace lay cloaked in ice tinted every shade from the most delicate of blues to the deepest of violet-blacks in the shadows of the towering stone pillars.

Beautiful. Jotunheim was beautiful.

The Casket sang its intertwining song of dark and light, and shimmered with swooping, swirling patterns, like the whorls and ridges on the skin of Loki's hands. He laughed softly, and his breath furled out in a white cloud.

Then the darkness took him.

*** 


	7. Chapter 7

Loki had not prayed because, when a god prays, who is there to hear those prayers? But he had hoped for oblivion. Nonexistence. He'd hoped for it once before, when he'd let go of the staff in Thor's hand, and he'd fallen from the Bifrost.

Instead, he awoke in Asgard.

Not the Asgard he knew, but an Asgard dead as Dokkalfheim. Odin's palace was empty and dark, covered in a thin film of dust. The treasure room that Odin had taken such pride in, had been stripped of all its spoils. Asgard had been abandoned, but not in haste. Only empty rooms remained. Not a stick of furniture, not a book, not one single memento, even in his own corner of the palace.

Loki walked through the soaring archway and down the six stairs into Thor's chambers, and he stood there, surrounded by the space his brother had occupied, once. He walked out again.

This was his eternity, then. Lonely, to be sure, but he preferred this to the loneliness he had endured in the realms beyond Yggdrasil. There, he had wandered lost and afraid through lands where logic was unknown. Where his magic would not function, where it twisted in his mind and in his hands, turning wrong and hurting him, until he feared to use it.

He had been alone then, in a way he never had been in Asgard, not even after discovering he was Laufey's son. There were other jotunar, and it was but moments through the Bifrost to reach them, whenever he chose to. But, beyond the Bifrost there was not one other living thing, not even an insect, and Loki had endured loneliness long enough that, even with his love of solitude, he'd begun to loathe his own company.

The midgardians spoke of Hell, the afterworld of the evil, the selfish, the twisted and the monstrous. The realms beyond the Bifrost were Hell. To be in Asgard was better; even this version of Asgard. There were no Chitauri here.

Loki retraced his footsteps in the dust. Would they eventually vanish, or would he keep crossing and recrossing his own steps forever? Which would be worse? He couldn't say. He would have to wait, and find out.

He walked to the soaring colonnade that looked out over the cataracts tumbling into the sea of chaos at the edge of the realm. The rushing water had dried, leaving cracked and jagged rocks hanging over a chasm of blackness. To his right, the wheelhouse of the Bifrost lay careened on its side like a wrecked galleon.

No sound reached him save the rushing of wind. Loki stood and listened. There was no wind here. The air hung heavy and stale. No breeze stirred his hair, or brushed his face. He realized he was hearing the sound of voices. Too many of them for him to pick any words from the overlapping murmur. He walked along the edge of the colonnade, his brows drawn together in a puzzled frown.

"Loki of Asgard."

No one stood near him. Loki closed his eyes and focused on that one voice, shutting out the others. It was Brisenndyr's voice. Loki waited for her to speak again; she might be some trick of this dead place.

"Jotunheim," said a second voice. Breyrkekolf's voice. "He is Loki of Jotunheim now."

Something brushed the back of Loki's hand like an insect's wing. His eyes flew open. Brisenndyr stood front of him.

"This is a waste of time," she said, not to Loki, but to someone behind him.

Loki looked over his shoulder, and there stood Breyrkekolf.

"Thistilbardi says that gods hear the prayers of mortals," Breyrkekolf said. "Who would know better than Thistilbardi?"

"What if he can only hear a prayer to Loki _of Asgard_?" Brisenndyr pointed out.

Loki reached for the closest sibling. His hand passed through Brisenndyr like smoke. In this place, she was the ghost. To Loki's knowledge, no one had ever prayed to him before. But that was the constant murmur he was hearing. As he realized this, the many voices became comprehensible, offering thanks for giving back the Casket, and giving back Jotunheim.

He stepped away from the colonnade. He had not expected thanks, nor had he wanted it. He had only been trying to put right what he'd done wrong. The Asgardian dragon was slain. The capricious, evil god-king vanquished, and Jotunheim restored. Why could the jotunar not be satisfied with that?

"Sire," Breyrkekolf said, "Wherever you are, please hear our prayers and return to Jotunheim."

"Come home," said Brisenndyr.

Loki knew there would be no peace for him in Jotunheim. But there was no peace for him in this dead echo of Asgard, either.

***

He woke in his Frost Giant-sized bed, underneath a heap of furs. He hadn't imagined seeing the light of day in Jotunheim. It filled his bedchamber, not the golden sunlight of summer, but the dusky blue of a midnight sun. The Casket sang faintly in his head, but it was like the sound of air moving past his ears. Its absence, not its presence, had been the unnatural intrusion.

Loki had expected to feel about the same as he had after being beaten by the man-beast of Midgard. But, all he felt was slightly light-headed. And, for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel immeasurably weary.

His right hand lay on top of the bedcovers and he felt that light touch skim the back of it again. He turned his head, and his eyes met Yutta's. She dropped his hand and fled, her footsteps pattering across the stone floor.

He pushed off the pelts, and sat up, to discover he was missing his clothing. Raised lines and whorls covered the blue skin of his chest and arms. Though he knew what he'd find, he touched his face, tracing the markings on his cheekbones and his forehead. Exactly how jotun had he become? He drew a breath and braced himself, then slid his fingers toward his hairline. He touched the unfamiliar hard ridges of two horns, and followed their curves back to where they tapered to blunt points above his ears.

Loki let out the breath he'd been holding. Horns. He had _horns_. The Casket had banished Odin's illusion completely. He should have been revolted. Horrified. Furious. He felt… he wasn't certain yet how he felt. He'd expected the tightening in his chest and his stomach that presaged the burn of righteous anger. It didn't come. All he felt was empty, and strangely expectant.

But, was he god, or was he mortal? If he was a mortal, he would be no use to anyone, least of all himself. He lifted his hands. Focused. A dull ache roused in his head, a faint echo of the rending ache that had gripped him when he'd given himself to the Casket.

Something small, to begin with. He concentrated and, between his hands, he conjured a little vision of the first thing that occurred to him: Ooskoo the grimulf.

Still a god, then. Splendid.

Heavy footsteps retraced Yutta's escape route through the outer rooms. Loki recognized Tortrigg's tread. He banished the illusion of Ooskoo. A moment later, the Frost Giant appeared in the doorway, and stopped abruptly when he saw Loki. Evidently, he hadn't believed Yutta's report that Loki was awake. Loki wondered how long he'd lain insensible.

Tortrigg didn't give Loki the chance to ask. The Frost Giant hurled himself to the floor at Loki's bedside, and hid his face in his hands.

"Tortrigg…"

All Loki wanted was for Tortrigg to stand up, and be his usual imperturbable self. He reached out, and laid his hand on the top of the jotun's bowed head.

"Tortrigg," he said again, more firmly. "I wish to speak to one of my royal advisors. Fetch one for me."

Tortrigg rose immediately to his feet, and bowed to Loki, and crossed the room, hesitating in the doorway to take one more look at Loki, before he left.

Loki sighed. He had wanted fear, and unquestioning obedience, and instead, he'd gotten… this. He threw off the bedcovers and climbed out of bed, to get a good look at himself. The designs on his skin covered him all over. Interesting.

He raised a hand to conjure his Asgardian clothing. He stopped. He could cloak himself in an illusion, too, and play at being Asgardian. But he wasn't Asgardian. He was jotun. Would it not be wiser to make peace with that truth?

Loki smiled wryly. He'd always been fond of giving advice to others, whether they asked for it or not. As to taking advice — that had never been his strong point.

He conjured jotun clothing for himself. A long coat of soft wool, of a violet shade so deep it was nearly black, embroidered like the alfin clothing, fringed with black fur around the neckline and the cuffs of the sleeves. A dark gray tunic and trousers, and boots of grimulf hide.

There was no mirror in his bedchamber, or anywhere in his rooms, so he conjured a duplicate of himself, a duplicate he hardly recognized. But he wasn't entirely dissatisfied with the result.

The outer door of his chambers opened, then Loki heard the murmur of Breyrkekolf's voice, followed by the alfin's swift footsteps. Breyrkekolf came to the doorway, and halted the way Tortrigg had, his eyebrows drawing together in consternation.

Loki flicked his wrist and the duplicate of himself vanished.

"Sire," Breyrkekolf said, "I am glad to see you so well. We…" He gestured at Loki's alfin clothing. "… don't know what became of your Asgardian garments. After they were removed from you, they vanished."

"Who undressed me? You?"

"No, sire. It was Tortrigg." Breyrkekolf crossed the room to where Loki stood. "May I see the back?

Loki turned toward the windows. "How long was I…" He didn't know what he had been. _Asleep? Dead? Traveling?_

"Many days and nights, sire. Even Tortrigg feared the worst." Breyrkekolf's hands touched Loki's shoulders, adjusting the coat. "A proper alfin coat is cut up the back, for riding, but this is very fine, otherwise."

When Loki faced him once more, Breyrkekolf scratched his jaw, where a shadow of beard darkened it. "You might..." He brushed a hand across his own shoulder. "Instead of the alfin patterns, you might make designs like those of the ettin armor. Across the shoulders and the back."

"Excellent suggestion," Loki said.

Breyrkekolf's open, cheerful face became serious. "You have saved Jotunheim, sire."

"I'm no hero," Loki cut him off. "I only used the Casket, because I hoped it would kill me."

To Loki's surprise, Breyrkekolf smiled. "All the same. You might have killed yourself and _not_ used the Casket."

Startled, Loki laughed. That was a remark he would have expected from Brisenndyr, not her brother.

Breyrkekolf added, "You were doing perfectly fine as you were. No one liked you, and no one wanted you. But, you've done a good thing, sire. You meant to do a good thing. Now you must accept the consequences of doing that good thing, and meaning to do it. We cannot do without you."

***

Over the next few days, Loki wished often and fervently that he had never returned to Jotunheim. Breyrkekolf was correct: Loki had done a good thing, and he'd meant to do it, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

Being worth so much to so many was not what Loki had envisioned.

Loki glanced back over his shoulder to where Tortrigg walked several paces behind Loki and Thistilbardi. Tortrigg raised his head slightly, as if to ask what Loki wanted. Such a complicated answer to that question.

Thistilbardi had not noticed, nor had he ceased speaking. "… when King Svarang ruled Jotunheim. Long before the time of the alfin, more than ten thousand years ago."

"When you were a young ettin, Thistilbardi?" Loki asked.

Thistilbardi laughed his wheezy laugh, and Tortrigg snorted in amusement.

"Very droll, Majesty. Ettin are not quite so long-lived as that."

The mausoleum of kings lay outside the palace, past the temple, nestled in a narrow valley. The ribbon of sky visible between the high walls of dark rock was mottled by clouds. The air was biting cold, and the breeze that toyed with the ends of Loki's hair smelled of snow yet to come. He loved days like this, gray and quiet with promise. A fine day to admire the ancient tombs of his predecessors, each one of whom had likely been murdered by his or her successor. A very pleasant outing.

Thistilbardi beckoned Loki over to a tall stone obelisk. Loki folded his hands behind his back, and went where he was bid. The obelisk was carved all over, not only with lines of jotun writing, but with panels of delicately rendered bas-relief, depicting King Svarang doing various kingly things.

He tipped his head back to look at the top of the stele, which was a good distance above even Tortrigg's head. The top panel depicted King Svarang with a female Frost Giant; Loki could tell she was female because she was wearing a draped gown like Gauthild's, though much more elaborate. King Svarang was lifting her hand in his.

"Queen Eslif," Thistilbardi supplied. "Theirs was a grand love story. It is said that during their reign, flowers bloomed in the southern lands."

"And the next panel down?" Loki asked, before Thistilbardi could launch into the tale of their grand love; Loki's least favorite type of tale. In this panel, the King and the Queen stood on a platform above a crowd. They reached out, and a crowd beneath them reached up. In the space between them, the sculptor had carved a dozen small, round shapes, as if the rulers were tossing them to their subjects, or vice versa. "What does this represent?"

"King Svarang and Queen Eslif feeding the poor. Here, in this next panel down, King Svarang is fighting the fire giants of Muspelheim."

"Svarang died, did he not?" Loki said.

Thistilbardi looked surprised. "Yes, Majesty. The fire giants slew him. How did you know that?"

"He's missing in the next panel," Loki replied. "Also, I came across a book in the palace library about Queen Eslif meeting ambassadors from Muspelheim."

Thistilbardi nodded. "Yes. Queen Eslif bound herself to the Casket, and ruled alone for several centuries. That was a time of darkness and privation. But, during the reign of King Svarang and Queen Eslif, Jotunheim prospered. Harvests and births were bountiful." Thistilbardi looked up at the sky and his face creased in a smile. "It seems those days have come again. No one in living memory has seen a morning like this, Majesty."

Loki frowned, uncomfortable with Thistilbardi's faith in him. "There are many days like this in Asgard."

There were no days like this in Asgard. Whatever the season, each day in Asgard was a perfect day, because Odin would accept nothing less than perfection. Then Loki realized what Thistilbardi was actually saying.

"This is my doing?" he said. "Not only the realm, but… the weather?"

Thistilbardi smiled, lacing his hands together. "The Casket rules the realm, and the ruler of Jotunheim rules the Casket," he said, as though this were an adage often repeated among the jotunar. Then he lifted an age-knotted finger. "Any jotun may touch the Casket without fear of harm, and any jotun of royal blood may use the Casket's powers. But, the Casket binds itself to the ruler of Jotunheim, during the coronation ceremony. We did not intend to perform the binding ritual with you, Majesty, since we believed you to be merely Asgardian. It would have served no purpose."

"But now I've done it myself," Loki said.

"Exactly so. Except, never before has a god bound himself to the Casket."

Thistilbardi gave Loki an intent, measuring look and Loki, lifting his head to meet the ettin's crimson gaze, nestled in its countless wrinkles, was reminded yet again that Thistilbardi was older than he. Not so old as ten thousand years, but old enough to have served Kolfinn, the king before Laufey. Kolfinn, who had ruled Jotunheim before Loki had been born.

Thistilbardi placed one finger against Loki's chest, where his heart beat. "Remember," he said. "You are Jotunheim. And Jotunheim is you."

Loki didn't know what he might have said in response to that. He didn't get a chance to answer. Hurried footsteps interrupted. Breyrkekolf strode up to Loki, bowing quickly.

"Majesty," he said, "five emissaries have come to the palace. They wish to speak with you, sire, on a most urgent matter."

Why Breyrkekolf hadn't sent a servant to deliver his message, was answered by the worried, fearful expression on Breyrkekolf's face.

"Emissaries from where?" Loki said, though he knew already.

"Asgard, sire."

*** 


	8. Chapter 8

When Tortrigg returned to the small, sparse anteroom, only Thor accompanied him. Thor halted in the doorway, his eyes widening. Loki stared back impassively. Tortrigg bowed and left. The Frost Giant would wait outside the door, regardless of whether Loki wanted him to wait there or not.

He had braced himself to see revulsion on Thor's face; Thor was not overly adroit at hiding his emotions. But, all Loki saw was surprise, and then caution.

"Loki," Thor said finally.

"Thor."

"You look well."

"You mean I look jotun."

"It suits you."

Loki folded his arms across his chest. "Where are Sif and her Jesters Three?"

"I wished to speak with you alone."

"You're not welcome here, Thor. None of you are welcome."

Thor's face tightened. Loki felt an answering pinch of guilt at causing Thor pain, but that only served to make him angrier.

Thor looked around at the small stone-walled room, as if seeking someplace to look at that wasn't Loki's face. The palace was full of anterooms and audience chambers, not a one of which appeared to have been used since the time of King Kolfinn. They all had the look of rooms that were cleaned frequently, but pointlessly.

This particular room had no furnishings. One of the walls was pierced by small, random openings. Until several days ago, Loki had assumed the stone was cracked from age and neglect. But, it was deliberate. Gray-lilac sunlight drifted through the web of openings, creating a lacework of light on the stone floor, between the rectangular patches of light cast by the long windows on either side of the room.

"I didn't expect a welcome from Jotunheim," Thor said. Or from you."

"Then why are you here?"

Thor's brows drew together. "You know exactly why I'm here, Loki. Stop this. I don't know why you persist in testing Father's patience, but he _will_ give you to the Chitauri."

"Testing his patience?" Loki repeated scornfully. "And how exactly am I testing the Allfather's patience? Is he not getting sufficient entertainment from me?" Loki flung out his arms. "Would he prefer me to start another conquest for the Nine Realms, so he can subjugate me, the same way he subjugated Laufey?"

Thor's eyes narrowed, but not in anger. He tilted his head. "You don't know. You… I wondered how your magic could have grown so powerful." He pushed a hand through his blond hair. "I knew you could hide yourself from Heimdall and even from Father, but how could you have hidden an entire realm?"

"I couldn't," Loki answered, confused. He might have been able to pull off such a huge feat of illusion, and even maintain it for a few moments, but no more.

"I feared I'd find Jotunheim a burnt cinder, all the Frost Giants slaughtered, and you long fled. Instead, I discover —" Thor swept a hand around the anteroom, though Loki knew he meant to indicate the terrain outside the palace. "This! Not a realm in ruins, and not even the Jotunheim of Laufey's reign, but this! Daylight. Beauty. Jotunheim… it is beautiful, Loki. I didn't understand why you would conceal it from Father."

"So, that is why you're here," Loki said.

Thor nodded.

Loki laughed softly, as he realized what had happened. From Thor's perspective, it wouldn't be funny at all, which was exactly _why_ it was funny. "It's not I who've done this, Thor. It's the Casket of Ancient Winters."

"Truly? If it has such power, why did the Frost Giants never use it?"

"Because they're not gods," Loki replied. Thor continued to frown, so Loki explained, "The Casket shapes itself to each ruler of Jotunheim. Like a midgardian computer. Erik Selvig explained to me that the difficulty with a computer is that it does what it thinks you want, based on its available data. Sometimes, that is not what you actually want."

"I understand," Thor said. You resented Father interfering, so the Casket prevented Father from seeing Jotunheim."

"Yes." It was an error easily rectified. He reached out to the Casket, touched it with his mind, and he showed it what he wanted: Jotunheim, unveiled to the eyes of Asgard.

"So, you have done all this," Thor said, in a tone of undisguised wonder. "You've remade Jotunheim."

Loki didn't care for the direction this conversation was taking. "I'm thinking of renaming the realm Lokiheim."

Thor didn't laugh. Loki hadn't expected him to. But, he also ignored Loki's attempt to deflect him.

"You always did like snow," he said.

"When you go back to Asgard," Loki said, "Tell Odin —"

"I didn't come from Asgard," Thor said grimly. "I came from Midgard. All of us came from Midgard, through a contraption built by Tony Stark."

"Then Odin doesn't know you're here."

"No," Thor said. "He'd be angry if he knew. But, I had to come."

"Even though you were certain you'd arrive long after I'd destroyed Jotunheim and slunk away?" Loki said sarcastically.

"I _wasn't_ certain," Thor corrected him, anger spiking his voice. "I feared it might be true. I also feared the Chitauri had obliterated Jotunheim, and you with it." His tone softened, and his mouth curved in its always-ready smile. "But, here you are, brother."

Loki sighed.

Thor held up a hand. "I'm done discussing such matters. I don't wish to rouse your ire any further. I am only here to warn you. Father has contacted the Chitauri."

Even considering the chill of the day, and of the realm, Loki still felt himself go cold.

Thor added, "I begged him not to. I tried to persuade him to hold the Chitauri over you as an empty threat. But, he won't hear me. Father hasn't been to Midgard in more than a thousand years. And he has never traveled past the Nine Realms."

Loki closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. "Thor. Tell me he didn't use the Tesseract to contact the Chitauri."

"I don't know," Thor admitted. "I hope he would have been too proud to use anything but his own magic. Yet, even contacting them at all…" He lifted his hands.

Loki nodded.

Thor said, "The Chitauri leader believed you dead. He thought we had executed you, after — after Midgard."

The Chitauri leader had promised Loki, that if Loki failed to secure the Tesseract, there would be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where their master could not find him. Or rather, there would be no place where their master would not dispatch his Chitauri dogs to pluck up Loki and deliver him for punishment.

"So, Odin sent you to fetch me back to Asgard."

"I'm sure he would have," Thor said, "if I'd obeyed his command to return."

Loki raised his eyebrows.

Thor drew himself up. "I don't run and jump every time Father snaps his fingers."

The corners of Loki's mouth curved.

Thor growled in annoyance, and paced across the room, away from him. "You recall I spoke of Tony Stark's machine?"

Loki nodded, curious in spite of himself. "Tell me of it."

"Tony Stark has been working with Erik Selvig and Jane Foster. Jane is — never mind."

"The woman," Loki said.

"Yes. The woman."

His expression dared Loki to say something else; Loki gestured for him to continue.

"They salvaged pieces from the Chitauri leviathan ships. In one of the ships, they found a device that… " Thor frowned, obviously searching for the proper words to explain himself. "It knocks on a door within another Chitauri device of many doors, and asks to come in. The Chitauri use these doors to move about, as we once used the Bifrost." Thor frowned. "Am I making sense?"

"Yes," said Loki. "Perfect sense." Thor's analogy was crude, but apt. "Stark built himself a Chitauri device of many doors, using the device that knocks on doors that he found in the crashed leviathan ship."

Thor looked relieved. "Yes. Tony Stark believes a door could be constructed, which opens into the Nine Realms, from the Chitauri realm, now that the Chitauri know where the Nine Realms are located. The Chitauri would only need to provide the device with a strong opponent."

"Opponent?"

Thor's forehead crinkled again. "That's not the right word. But, it is close." He thought about it, then he shook his head. "Tony Stark said the device could be strengthened by an opponent."

Loki snapped his fingers. "Exponent."

"Ha!" Thor said triumphantly. "That is it. Exponent. I knew you would know it, brother."

Loki ignored that. "Stark thinks the Chitauri can increase the reach of their device by another exponential factor, so it can reach worlds outside their own universe. They wouldn't need the Tesseract to open a portal."

He strode away from Thor a few paces, tapping his fingers against his lips.

Thor said, "I told Tony Stark and Erik Selvig it was urgent for them to finish the machine. That I must find you in Jotunheim, and warn you."

"Yes, I can imagine that made Stark and Selvig work _much_ faster," Loki said. "I'm sure they were deeply concerned about my welfare."

Thor huffed impatiently. "If the Chitauri can build this device of doors and strong exponents, they might reach Asgard, and steal the Tesseract."

"You can't seriously believe I have any interest in the fate of Asgard."

"If Asgard falls, and the Tesseract is lost, Midgard would fall, and Jotunheim, and the rest of the Nine Realms."

Loki pressed his lips together. Thor was right, and they both knew it.

From outside the palace came the long, low wail of a horn. Loki and Thor exchanged a look. That sound never presaged anything good, and Loki could see by Thor's frown that Thor was thinking the same thing.

Thor took a step toward the door, then he stopped. He lifted a hand for Loki to precede him. Loki walked past Thor, out of the anteroom. They returned to the great hall, where the jotunar and the Asgardians stood tensely, glaring at one another with their weapons drawn. As soon as Loki strode into the room with Thor and Tortrigg in tow, swords and maces and ice blades came down, but the atmosphere remained no less tense.

Loki ignored Thor's friends, and crossed the hall to where Gauthild stood with Thistilbardi and several of the ettin. Before he reached them, the signal horn sounded again, low and mournful.

"What's happened?" Loki said to Gauthild.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Volstagg pull back in surprise. Even Sif's self-possession deserted her. Not one of the Asgardians had recognized Loki until he spoke.

"Sire," said Gauthild, "your sentries have spotted airships approaching the palace." She glanced behind Loki, at where Thor stood on Loki's right-hand side. "We are concerned they are an attack force."

"They are. But not from Asgard," Loki said. He knew precisely who had sent the ships.

Gauthild's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't contradict him.

Loki added, "The Asgardians came here to warn us. You will cooperate with them, Gauthild."

The ettin inclined her head. "Yes, sire."

"The ships belong to a race called the Chitauri. They are swift, and they are brutal. Gather your soldiers. Get everyone to safety."

"That is not the way of the jotunar," Thistilbardi said. "We will fight beside you, sire."

Tortrigg added an affirmative grunt. Loki was about to point out that his commands were not open for discussion, but he had no right to ask the jotunar not to defend their own realm.

He said, "Very well. As many jotunar who are able to fight, bring them to the courtyard outside the palace."

"It is already being done, Majesty," replied Gauthild.

Loki turned to Thistilbardi. "You," he said, "will remove yourself to somewhere safe."

Thistilbardi drew himself up stiffly. "I am not so old, that I must shame myself by hiding."

"The Chitauri are not like me, Thistilbardi," Loki told him. "They will not be amused by your opinions, nor will they be diverted by your tales of times past. They know nothing of mercy." Thistilbardi opened his mouth, and Loki pointed a finger at the ancient ettin. "Find Yutta. Find the others who work in the palace, who cannot fight. Hide yourselves. You are not so old that you are exempt from obeying your king."

To Loki's surprise, Thistilbardi smiled, then bowed. "Yes, Majesty."

Thistilbardi shuffled off across the great hall; Loki gestured at two of the ettin soldiers standing behind Gauthild, then flicked his hand in Thistilbardi's direction. The soldiers hurried after Thistilbardi.

Gauthild said, "Sire, if it please you, I shall see to the organization of our forces."

Loki nodded at her. She motioned to the remaining ettin behind her, and headed in the opposite direction from Thistilbardi.

Thor said, "We will fight beside you as well."

Loki had almost forgotten Thor was standing behind him; Thor had been as silent as Tortrigg. He wanted to resent the idea of Thor swooping in to save the day once again, but the Chitauri were likely only prepared to face one Asgardian. Two, at most. They would not be expecting six.

"Your help is welcome," Loki said.

He expected this concession to be greeted with a smug smile, but Thor's face remained grave.

"The Chitauri followed me here," he said. "This is my fault."

"You're not known for your stealth," Loki agreed.

"True."

Again, that was not the good-natured response Loki expected. But, what could he say? What could be said, after so many hateful words had been spoken, that hatred and hurt was fast becoming a habit between them?

"The Chitauri would have found me sooner or later," Loki offered. "You were trying to warn me. I know you meant no harm." He shrugged one shoulder. "Since it was inevitable the Chitauri would come, it's better you are here with me, to meet them."

Thor's mouth twitched. "Ah. So, you admit you've missed me."

"I admit that I appreciate your help."

Thor's smiled widened. "Very well. Brother."

Loki rolled his eyes, and crossed the great hall to where Sif and the others waited.

Volstagg said, "There is to be a battle, then."

"The Chitauri will be upon the palace within the hour," Loki said.

Volstagg tightened his grip on the handle of his axe. "Good."

Fandral added, "It will be like old times. The six of us fighting together once more."

"I told the jotunar we would fight," Loki said. "But it would be better if I gave myself up to the Chitauri."

Tortrigg growled.

Thor's face twisted in horror. "Loki — _no._ "

"Jotunheim has already suffered too much because of me."

Sif said, "The Chitauri may take you, and then destroy as much of Jotunheim as they can, anyway. Your surrender will have been for nothing."

"Or they may not."

"They have no mercy," Thor said. "You were right when you told the elder Frost Giant so."

"I'm not speaking of mercy," Loki replied. "The Chitauri have also suffered much because of me. Why risk losing more ships and soldiers when they can have me, without one drop of blood being spilled?"

"Except your own," Thor protested.

"I've incurred a debt. It's time I paid it."

"Sire." Brisenndyr walked up to join them, and bowed to Loki. Sif looked from the alfin, to Loki, and then back again. "Gauthild has gathered all jotunar who can fight in the courtyard. We await your orders."

She hesitated. She obviously wanted to say something else, and Loki knew exactly what that something was.

"Sire, please. Do not give yourself up to the Chitauri."

Fandral said, "Loki, we will stand by you. Remember, we all swore an oath."

"Yes. _As children,_ " Loki said.

"An oath we kept, even when we grew up. Never to abandon one another. Always to fight for each other. You swore it, too."

"The jotunar have sworn no oath to me."

"Ask," Brisenndyr said. "Ask us, and we will fight, sire. But, do not ask us to give you up. You are Jotunheim."

 _And Jotunheim is you,_ Thistilbardi had said.

Loki shook his head, but in resignation, rather than denial. Without waiting to see if the Asgardians or Brisenndyr followed him, Loki walked toward the archway that led out of the great hall, past the Casket softly glowing on its pedestal.

He emerged into a gently swirling snowfall. The jotunar in the courtyard below knelt to him, fists pressed over their hearts. He could not help remembering the last time he'd stepped out onto the wide balcony. How dark and miserably rainy it had been. The things he'd said to his royal subjects. _I have no use for your loyalty, or your love. All I require is your fear._ How vainglorious and stupid he must have sounded, pontificating about his godlike might. How they must have hated him.

"Loki," said Hogun.

He pointed toward the roof of the palace; Loki looked up. The roof was surmounted by high battlements, and studded with twisting spikes of rock. At the corner stood a watch tower, where a huge grimulf horn leaned against the wall. A young ettin in a furry cloak raised an arm to hail Loki. He pointed toward where the silver, cloud-cloaked sun hung above the jagged horizon.

Past the columns of dark stone that surrounded the palace, the land dropped into a narrow chasm, and beyond that, it opened into the plains of the Vastlands. Blue fires burned in the distance against the gray sky. Alfin signal fires, Loki assumed. His sharp eyesight picked out the approaching Chitauri vessels, though they were only dark smudges against the clouds, still hazy with distance.

"So few," Sif murmured.

"They're counting on surprise," Thor said. "And terror. Jotunheim isn't Midgard. The jotunar have no huge cities, nor any machines of war."

"Then they think the jotunar primitive and superstitious," Brisenndyr said. "They think we'll throw down our weapons and cower in terror, so they've sent only a small attack force."

"No," Loki said. "The Chitauri — _we_ — vastly underestimated the military strength of Midgard. If I were commanding the Chitauri again, I would not make that mistake again. I would strike at Jotunheim with everything I had. Exterminate the jotunar, destroy Jotunheim, and take what I came for." Loki glanced at Thor. "The odds would still be in favor of an Asgardian surviving the attack."

Thor met Loki's gaze, his blue eyes troubled.

"So, this is all the attack force the Chitauri possess." Volstagg sounded disappointed.

"I doubt you'll lack for entertainment," Loki replied.

He walked to the edge of the balcony. To the crowd of jotunar kneeling in the courtyard below, Loki said, "Stand up."

He spoke in a normal tone of voice, but the excellent acoustics of the open courtyard and the surrounding pillars of stone, carried his voice across the crowd. There was no murmuring. No surreptitious exchanges of glances. The jotunar remained on their knees.

"All of you," Loki said. "Ettin and alfin. I command you to stand."

That did it. The jotunar rose to their feet.

"Jotunheim," Loki said. "The grimulf horn has called you to fight, because of me. My mistake, my bad bargain, has followed me here. To you. These enemies approaching the palace are called Chitauri. They are not gods. They are mortals like you. They bleed, and they die. They want to take me from you, and they will kill as many of you as they can, to do so.

"I know none of you wanted me to rule you. An Asgardian. A son of Odin. A stranger. I didn't want to rule this realm, either. It was given to me as a punishment. So, don't give me a claim Jotunheim because I am a god. Don't give me your hearts because I am a jotun. I have no right to rule you because I slew Laufey. I have no right to rule you, even though I am Laufey's son."

No gasps and murmurs from the crowd greeted Loki's announcement. He hadn't expected any. Not after the last time he'd spoken to the jotunar, when he'd emphasized his sentiments by opening an illusionary Bifrost above their heads.

"I'm not Laufey," Loki added. "I ask you to fight, but not for conquest of the Nine Realms, and not for my sake. Fight for Jotunheim. Show the Chitauri that the Frost Giants ought to be feared. That the jotunar are worthy of respect."

He paused to let that sink in, and then he said, less forcefully, "Jotunheim. I am unworthy of you."

He made a fist, and pressed it to his heart. Then he bowed to his subjects. It was a calculated gesture, and it wasn't without risk. The jotunar might swarm onto the balcony and slaughter him. They might hand him over to the Chitauri. Or they might consent to fight, because they still feared Loki would destroy them.

What actually happened, was a possibility Loki had never thought to calculate for.

One of the ettin roared, fierce and loud, and immediately, he or she was joined by several others, then many others. Dozens of flashing ice blades erupted from raised arms. "LOKI!" roared a jotun in the crowd. Others joined him. "LOKI! LOKI!" The jotunar — ettin and alfin both — chanted Loki's name, lifting their weapons to him. They weren't chanting for his blood, but for their king. For him.

Loki lifted his arms for silence, not expecting the gesture to work, but it did. The jotunar lifted their faces to him eagerly.

"Don't raise your weapons to fight for your king," he said. "Don't fight for me. Fight beside me. We fight together."

The answering roar of the jotunar was deafening. The Casket of Ancient Winters answered inside of Loki, cold and storm gathering in its icy blue heart.

***


	9. Chapter 9

"Stay in the palace," Loki told Brisenndyr. And then he said to Tortrigg. "Protect her. Stay with her, and if I find you've disobeyed me, I know there are parts dearer to you than your tongue. "

Tortrigg looked insulted by Loki's lack of faith.

"Sire. I wish to fight by your side," said Brisenndyr.

"You're no match for the Chitauri."

"That is unfair, sire. The only person you've ever seen me fight, is you."

Sif laughed. "Princess, if you're fierce enough to fight Loki, and still alive to complain about losing, I would be happy to have you fight by my side."

Brisenndyr gave Sif a narrow-eyed look of disdain. Thor snorted in amusement.

Loki stepped closer to Brisenndyr and said, "You're of royal blood. You and Breyrkekolf are the only two jotunar other than I, who can use the Casket's power. If the Chitauri reach the palace, you are the only two who can stop them from destroying it. Or stealing the Casket, the way Odin did."

She conceded, bowing her head. "Yes, sire."

Then she caught Loki by the wrist, just below the sleeve of his coat. Her fingers touched the back of his hand, her thumb skimmed across the thin skin on the inside of his wrist, and she let go of him. There was nothing accidental or impartial about the way she had touched him. She walked quickly back toward the great hall. Tortrigg followed her.

Loki looked from Brisenndyr, to where Thor and the others stood on the balcony. All five of the Asgardians were watching the sky. The Chitauri attack force was nearly upon them, and not one of them, not even Thor, had noticed what had occurred directly in front of them.

Mjolnir was already in Thor's hand. Thor looked to Loki, who nodded. Thor began to spin the hammer by the strap, building up speed. Loki had no magic comparable to Mjolnir's power. If Thor could put an end to the Chitauri attack before it began, so much the better.

Loki looked expectantly toward the cloudy sky, anticipating the familiar vortex of clouds twisting high above their heads. The clouds swirled sluggishly and broke apart. Thor let Mjolnir fall to his side.

Fandral said, "Been twirling the hammer a lot, Thor?"

Volstagg added, "You can go blind from that."

Sif laughed, and Hogun grinned.

The reason Thor couldn't use Mjolnir here, was obviously the same reason Heimdall could not see Jotunheim, until Loki allowed it. Thor apparently realized this at the same moment Loki did, because he looked over at Loki, clearly exasperated.

"I'm not doing it on purpose," Loki said.

"Then what do you suggest?"

The leashed power of the Casket sang in the back of Loki's mind.

 _The Casket rules the realm, and the ruler of Jotunheim rules the Casket,_ Thistilbardi had told him.

He reached for the Casket, and it leapt to answer. Blue fire enfolded Loki like gigantic wings. Through the sheet of of flame, Loki saw Thor draw back a step. The Casket suffused Loki's vision once more. The towering spires and arches outside the palace. The sharp-toothed ridges, the narrow chasms. Every jotun in the courtyard below. Every stone. Every snowflake.

He saw the Chitauri ships more clearly. One leviathan and a scatter of flyers. The sky darkened. The clouds roiled. The wind picked up, shrieking across the landscape, and the snowfall grew heavier until it was not only snowflakes whipping around him, but darts of ice. Loki hurled the storm away from him, away from the palace, toward the Chitauri, and with it he sent all his rage and his hatred. The Chitauri would not destroy Jotunheim the way they had destroyed him.

The blue fire around him vanished, leaving his heart pounding and the inside of his skull buzzing with exhilaration. The blizzard struck the Chitauri attack force, obliterating it behind a wall of white and gray. From the courtyard rose another battle roar from the jotunar. At a break in the wind and the snow, Loki saw Chitauri flyers spinning through the air. Of the leviathan, he saw nothing at all.

"Nicely done," Thor said.

Volstagg said, "This battle will be finished before we even get to enjoy ourselves."

Loki raised his right hand, concentrated, and an ice blade studded with spikes sprang from his hand. "Then we'd best hurry," he said. "Before there are no Chitauri left to kill."

Volstagg grinned.

***

As it turned out, there were plenty of Chitauri left to kill.

The blizzard had downed several of the flyers, as well as the leviathan. Jaws snapping, the ship writhed on the stony ground in a puddle of greenish-black ichor. Chitauri spilled from its shattered guts, and rushed to meet the jotunar. Energy blasts from the Chitauri stunners lit up the swirling snow. The air smelled of ice and smoke and blood. The downed leviathan thrashed and twisted. It wasn't dying; it appeared to be gathering strength with each heave of its segmented metal body. Two flyers streaked past, headed for the palace.

Loki leapt into the fight, disdaining his Asgardian armor, and instead creating armor for himself like the ettin wore: plates of etched metal in a sheath of ice. Thor and the other Asgardians joined him. The mighty Mjolnir wasn't able to summon a storm in Jotunheim, but Thor still sent Chitauri flying through the air like scraps of torn paper.

A Chitauri soldier leapt into Loki's path with a snarl, and Loki stabbed him through the chest with his ice blade, halted only long enough to grab the Chitauri's stunner staff from him, then kicked the Chitauri's body out of his way. The closer Loki got to the leviathan ship, the more the snow under his feet became churned and pinkened with spilled blood. The bodies were not all Chitauri, either. Many of his jotunar had fallen.

The low, wailing cry of the grimulf horn came again, carrying even over the sounds of the battle. The flyers had broken through the blizzard. Light burst from the direction of the palace, blurred by the flying snow. Thor looked to Loki, locked eyes with him, and the question on his face was obvious.

"Go," Loki shouted to him. "Go!"

Thor raised Mjolnir, and took to the air in a streak of light. Loki sprinted across the icy ground toward the leviathan. Chitauri soldiers rushed to intercept him. He stunned one, knocked the staff out of another's hand, then shattered his ice blade, flung the hail of razor-edged shards into the midst of the Chitauri, and then swiftly recreated the blade. The Chitauri he didn't kill outright, swarmed him, landing stun bolt after stun bolt on his armor. Each impact felt like a fist of stone. He fought with the ice blade in one hand, and the stunner in the other.

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw one of the Chitauri leap for him, then it dropped, body slashed in two, a bright spray of blood lacing the cold air. Fandral beheaded another Chitauri; darting out of Loki's view, as he moved to fight back to back with Loki.

The battle surged around them in a blur of snow-shrouded bodies, the harsh, drilling shrieks of the Chitauri, the snarls of the jotunar, and the bellowing of grimulfs mingled with the screams of the dying, but still, the grinding, rending half-mechanical roar of the leviathan drowned them all out. The ground shook under Loki's boots. The leviathan's head lurched skyward, and its body undulated.

It was taking to the air. Loki ran toward it.

"Loki!" Fandral called.

His hand skidded off the back of Loki's ice-sheathed coat. The ship rose rapidly off the ground, and Loki jumped, with more hope than certainty. His boots hit the vessel's deck, and the surface under him gave slightly beneath him. He grabbed hold of the sharp scales on the leviathan's hull, swinging himself inside the ship, through the ragged gouge in its side. In his wake, there came a double thud-thud of impacts on the deck.

He spun to face the Chitauri behind him, but it was Fandral and Sif who had followed him. They rushed to fight the Chitauri inside the ship. The skirmish ended with the Chitauri, dead and otherwise, hurled out of the leviathan, as it climbed higher into the air. The last of the Chitauri aboard the leviathan, or so it appeared. No more soldiers rushed to challenge them.

"This creature must have a brain," Sif said, "that I can stab a blade into."

"It's a machine," Loki said. "Like the Destroyer."

"Then it has a mechanical brain."

Fandral looked from Loki to Sif.

"Go with her," Loki said. "Or stay with me. I don't care which."

"What more is to be done?" Fandral asked.

"The Chitauri leader," Loki said. "If he is onboard, I'll kill him. His soldiers, and even this ship, will drop down dead."

Fandral smiled. "By all means, let's be about that."

They parted ways with Sif. The inside of the leviathan was more beast than vessel. The floor was yielding and slightly sticky. The chambers within were small and low-ceilinged, the walls dark and pliant, slick with mucus. And it was warm. Uncomfortably warm. He'd become accustomed to the cold of Jotunheim.

He and Fandral soon reached a dead-end. The way forward was sealed by a translucent membrane, crisscrossed with veins. Loki raised the Chitauri stunner, then thought better of it, and plunged his ice blade through the membrane. The leviathan lurched, and roared in pain.

Fandral added his sword, and the two of them slashed through the membrane, releasing a rush of stinking wind. Beyond the membrane lay a darkness that dripped and squished and heaved.

"He isn't here," Loki said.

The Chitauri leader was somewhere else. Somewhere safe beyond a portal. Perhaps billions of miles from Jotunheim. Exactly the same as he had been on Midgard. Loki clenched his teeth in frustration. The Casket thrust itself into the front of his mind; his vision washed out in dazzling blue, and his ears filled with high, sweet ringing. The flare subsided instantly. He still felt the Casket connected to him, still heard it like a soft voice in another room.

Fandral clapped a hand on Loki's shoulder. Startled, Loki turned sharply.

Fandral lifted his hand, stepping back. "We shall find him, Loki."

Loki was only half-listening. The Casket had never reacted to him like that before. He had been far angrier when he saw Thor walk through the door of the palace anteroom.

"In Jotunheim or elsewhere," Fandral continued. "I promise you. For now, let's slay this —"

The leviathan lurched, and plunged toward the ground. Loki and Fandral lost their footing on the slick floor and tumbled to the squishy surface, sliding backwards. Loki grabbed for Fandral, and Fandral caught his outstretched hand. There was no point in standing up again. The leviathan arrowed downward and crashed to the ground, sliding and jolting across the ice until at last it skidded to a halt.

Loki and Fandral leapt to their feet, and ran toward the front of the leviathan.

"Sif!" Fandral called.

Sif emerged from behind a shredded tangle of membrane and innards, her white and silver armor smeared with green-black blood and gobbets of flesh.

"Smooth landing," Fandral said.

She tossed her black ponytail. "I would've liked to see you manage it better."

"What, and then hear you go on endlessly about how I don't consider you my equal?"

"You shouldn't," Sif said, "since I'm obviously your superior."

Loki retraced his path toward the rip in the leviathan's side. The other two followed him, and emerged from the leviathan as three grimulfs raced past them toward the palace, ettin clinging to their backs.

The grimulfs didn't slacken their speed as they passed the downed leviathan, but the ettin rider nearest to Loki raised his ice blade, and roared in delight at seeing the Asgardians emerge from the ship, instead of Chitauri.

Fandral raised his sword in response. "Good hunting!"

Loki leapt to the ground. One of the palace's spiny towers had been shattered, and black smoke coiled from the roof. No more flyers darted across the sky, but the wreckage of one was embedded high in the wall of the palace. Loki's thoughts immediately went to Yutta, then to Thistilbardi, to all the jotunar who weren't warriors. He was concerned for them. For mortals. For Frost Giants. He was _afraid_ for them. He felt it in the pit of his belly.

He'd never feared for Thor, nor for the others. They always prevailed in battle. There might be bruises and cuts to brag about afterward, but they were Asgardians. And, of course, Loki had never given any thought to mortals, one way or another, until now.

He, Sif and Fandral made their way down the sloping ridge, toward the palace. It was like crossing through the eye of a storm. First there was nothing but footprints marring the snow. Then, pinkish streaks of blood, and churned up stones. Then came the bodies, jotunar and Chitauri both. The Chitauri dead far outnumbered those of his own people.

There had been fighting in the courtyard. Brutal fighting, to judge from the resulting carnage. Now, only ettin and alfin moved among the fallen, killing any Chitauri who had escaped being cut down. Loki turned away from a grimulf ripping and snuffling at a Chitauri corpse, and spotted Gauthild standing with her hands on her hips, watching her ettin soldiers.

Breyrkekolf came running to meet Loki, as Loki, Sif and Fandral approached the temple with its ice mosaics of Odin and Frigga. Breyrkekolf's grimulf-hide armor was streaked with blood and scorch-marks, a long, jagged burn marked his left arm, and there was a cut across his forehead. But, he smiled when he saw Loki.

"Sire, we have captured three Chitauri prisoners." Belatedly, Breyrkekolf pressed a fist to his heart and bowed. "They're in the temple."

"Kill them," Loki said.

"Sire?"

"And any more Chitauri you find. Kill all of them. Quickly and mercifully, if you must. I won't insist on that."

"But, sire —" Breyrkekolf broke off, wincing as Loki glared at him.

"What do you want me to do?" Loki said. "Interrogate them?"

"You are a god," Breyrkekolf replied. "You speak the Chitauri tongue, surely."

"Not one of them has ever said anything worth hearing."

Sif said, with an undercurrent of impatience in her tone, "Surely, once you thought the same of the Frost Giants."

"You know nothing of the Chitauri." Loki fought to keep the anger and revulsion out of his voice. "You know nothing of the worlds beyond the Nine Realms. I don't speak thus of the Chitauri because I am a god, and they are lower beings. I speak thus, because they are Chitauri."

Fandral said, "Loki —"

"You wish to speak with them?" Loki cut him off. "Enjoy yourselves."

He continued toward the palace. From behind him, he heard Fandral say,

"I'm called Fandral the Dashing. And this is the Lady Sif."

"I am Prince Breyrkekolf of Clan Brinjolf," Breyrkekolf replied.

"We've met your sister," Sif said.

Loki climbed the steps of the palace. The stink of smoke was stronger here. Thick swaths of bluish-white ice lay across the stairs, and several Chitauri were buried under the ice, or frozen where they stood.

The pedestal in the center of the archway stood empty. The great hall was in ruins, pillars crumbled and blocks of stone strewn across the floor. More Chitauri lay dead, either entombed in ice, or torn apart limb from limb. But what halted Loki and gripped him motionless for a long and terrible moment, was the sight of Mjolnir lying in the wreckage.

"Thor?" he said. "Thor!"

Even as he called out, he knew he was too late. Thor would never abandon Mjolnir. As much as he had hated Thor, as often as he had tried to destroy Thor, part of Loki had always known he would fail. Thor was indestructible. Thor always won.

Thor was gone.

Loki swung around, and he saw something else he didn't want to see. Tortrigg. The huge Frost Giant lay sprawled on his back atop a heap of tumbled stones. Stunner burns crisscrossed Tortrigg's chest, and limbs. He'd fought fiercely, that much was obvious from his wounds.

As Loki knelt next to the ettin, he saw a slender hand protruding from the rubble, nearly invisible in the shadows. He tugged Tortrigg's corpse out of the way, and then, much less gently, he tossed aside the fallen stones. Blue light blossomed, streaming up at him. The Casket. And Brisenndyr with it.

Loki had no magic to bring back the dead. But, as he reached to touch the side of Brisenndyr's throat with his fingers, he felt her pulse, slow and strong. She was filthy, bloodied and torn, and Loki couldn't tell how badly she was injured, but she was still alive.

He slid down to sit on a huge upended stone between her and Tortrigg, and put his head in his hands. Because of him, the Chitauri had taken Thor. They only had data from Loki; they would be eager to expand their knowledge of Asgardians.

Brisenndyr shifted, uttering a soft sound. Loki lifted his head, and she blinked up at him, her gaze confused for a second, before it cleared.

"Sire?"

"Are you all right?"

"I think so." Her eyes widened. "Your brother —!"

Loki put a hand on her shoulder as she attempted to rise. "I know. And Tortrigg..." He glanced over to where Tortrigg lay. "He's dead."

Brisenndyr squeezed her eyes shut for a second, as if to stop tears before they started. "He died trying to save Thor." She pushed herself slowly up to a sitting position. "Thor saved me. The Chitauri would have killed me, if not for him."

Loki dreaded to ask, but he had to. "What happened?"

She sighed. "The Chitauri tried to take the Casket, just as you said they would. They killed themselves on purpose, trying to destroy the palace." She shook her head in disbelief, and then she added, "The jotunar have never been friends to Asgard, yet Thor fought for us so bravely."

Loki shrugged one shoulder. "That's Thor."

"The Chitauri tried to overpower him. They weren't trying to kill him. They wanted to capture him, right from the start."

She studied Loki's face. From the subtle shift of her expression, Loki understood that his own face had betrayed his fear for Thor. He expected Brisenndyr to ask him why the Chitauri had captured Thor, but she didn't.

"I killed as many of them as I could. One of them struck the Casket with a bolt of fire. It exploded." She frowned and touched a hand to her temple.

"It's all right," Loki said. "That's enough." It explained the instant onboard the leviathan ship, when he had sensed nothing except the Casket.

Brisenndyr said, "They took your brother. The explosion killed most of the Chitauri. It threw me, and Tortrigg and Thor across the room. More Chitauri rushed in, and they struck Thor with their bolts of fire, until he could no longer stand." She looked to where Mjolnir lay on the floor. "Then they took him."

"With a flyer?"

"No, sire. With a cloud of light." Brisenndyr lifted her hands, then let them fall to her sides. "They disappeared."

She scrambled up, gathering her legs underneath her. Loki rose as well, caught her by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. She brushed rock dust and chips of ice off her grimulf-hide armor. Then she bent to lift the Casket. She stepped over the rubble, and walked to where Tortrigg lay.

"I shall miss you, Tortrigg," she said. The soft light of the Casket flickered over her face, making her expression difficult for Loki to discern. "I never thought I would say that to an ettin."

"I didn't think it was possible for Tortrigg to die," Loki murmured.

"He died fighting for a king he loved." Thistilbardi's cracked and gravelly voice came from the other side of the great hall. "Not all of us will be so fortunate."

A fragment of Loki's tension crumbled away at the sight of the ancient Frost Giant picking his way through the debris to join them.

"You are unharmed, Thistilbardi?" Loki said.

"Entirely, sire. Thank you for your courtesy."

Loki didn't miss the implication that if his courtesy was more common, it wouldn't require thanks.

"What of Yutta and the others?" he said.

"All safe and sound. The Chitauri never reached the caverns beneath the palace."

Thistilbardi swept a look around the great hall at the destruction and the Chitauri corpses. As Brisenndyr carried the Casket across the great hall to set it gently on its pedestal, Thistilbardi added,

"I see the jotunar have carried the day, and the Casket is safe. Our dead didn't fall in vain."

"They're still dead," said Loki.

"All mortals die, majesty."

Loki had no reply to that.

Brisenndyr returned, her soft boots kicking up stone dust. "The Chitauri have stolen the king's brother."

"Then we must steal him back, princess."

Both jotunar looked to Loki expectantly.

"I don't know where they've taken him," Loki said. "I hope Mjolnir can tell me."

He walked to where Mjolnir lay on the floor. Crouching down, he laid his hand on the hammer's metal head. He couldn't lift it but, as he'd done with the Casket, he closed his eyes, and focused his mind on a single thought. _Thor. Where is Thor? Show me Thor._

Mjolnir showed him nothing. Not even the fragments of his brother that Loki expected to cling to the hammer, the way they would have to Thor's boots. The hammer was a dead block of metal. He sat back on his heels.

"What if you picked up the hammer?" Brisenndyr suggested.

"I can't pick it up." Loki uncoiled swiftly to his feet. "Only Thor can lift Mjolnir." He lifted a hand to stop her, as she opened her mouth. "I _have_ tried," he told her, not bothering to temper his frustration. "Several times. Only someone worthy of Mjolnir, can lift Mjolnir."

He would never be worthy of lifting Mjolnir, not even in the many centuries he had left to live.

Thistilbardi said, "Yet, you don't want Mjolnir for yourself, sire. You're trying to find your brother. What could be more worthy than that?"

Loki spread his arms, giving Brisenndyr and Thistilbardi a mocking bow. "Let me show you the god Jotunheim has put its faith in. The king who's won your love and your loyalty."

Loki reached down, wrapping his hand around Mjolnir's leather-corded pommel. A rush of sensation overwhelmed him. He could _feel_ Thor, as if his brother's warm arm lay across his shoulders. He could smell Thor: metal and leather; sharp, thundery ozone, and sun-warmed skin. Strength and laughter and steadfastness, and everything that signified Thor, collided inside of Loki. Tears stung his eyes.

He stepped back instinctively, and Mjolnir came with him. Perfectly balanced, humming with leashed power. He'd always thought his brother's hammer such a clumsy, impractical weapon.

He was holding Mjolnir. He had lifted Mjolnir. He did not quite believe it. This was a temporary arrangement, surely. Brought about by mutual necessity.

Heart pounding, Loki drew the hammer close, and whispered to it, "Show me Thor."

The low crack and rumble of distant thunder nearly made him drop the hammer. He tightened his grip on the pommel. The great hall fell away. His consciousness flew across Jotunheim at a pace that swept him breathless. He crossed the sharp-toothed mountains that surrounded the palace. He'd traveled this route before, with Brisenndyr and Tortrigg. He crossed the Vastlands in seconds, the gray and white plains blurring beneath him. The dark mountains swooped up from the horizon and the shimmering veil between Jotunheim and Dokkalfheim caught him in a sparking swirling storm of chaos. Then his vision went black.

***


	10. Chapter 10

Loki drew back, lowering Mjolnir. The hammer felt warm in his hand. The pommel tingled against his palm. Thistilbardi's face creased in a smile, but Brisenndyr watched Loki with careful expectation, as if she were not sure how Loki would react to being wrong.

"The Chitauri took Thor to Dokkalfheim," Loki said.

That day on the ridge, the ghosts Loki had seen moving in the distance, might have been the Chitauri. It made perfect sense that the Chitauri leader would establish a base so close to Jotunheim. He knew of Loki's fall from Asgard. Loki had not wanted to speak of it. But eventually, the Chitauri had learned everything.

"Dokkalfheim," Brisenndyr said. "So nearby? We can be there in a day."

" _We_ are not going to Dokkalfheim," Loki told her. " _I_ am going."

Thistilbardi laid a hand on Loki's arm. "It is a domain of death, sire. A dark place where even a god may die. Take care."

"I will," Loki replied.

Brisenndyr said, "Sire, your brother owes no loyalty to Jotunheim, and none to me. But, he saved my life. I will come with you."

"No. You will not."

"You need me, sire. You still cannot ride a grimulf."

"I won't have to, if any of those Chitauri flyers still work."

Brisenndyr bit her lip, and Thistilbardi chuckled. Loki walked back toward the steps of the palace, and Brisenndyr followed. He'd expected her to. What he did not expect was that hearing her soft-soled boots scuff the stones in the silences between his own footfalls, would bring with it the memory of her fingers brushing his wrist.

"You will take your Asgardian friends with you?" she said. "Can any of them ride a Chitauri flyer?"

"That isn't my problem."

As Loki descended the steps to the courtyard, he saw Jotunar straggling back from the battle. A haze of smoke and snow rose behind them, nearly obscuring the crashed leviathan. Volstagg and Hogun trudged alongside a group of bloodied, sooty ettin. Volstagg slapped one of the ettin on the arm. Loki was too far away to hear what Volstagg said, but Hogun grinned, and the group of ettin roared with laughter.

Loki met Sif, Fandral and Breyrkekolf in the courtyard. Brisenndyr and Breyrkekolf clasped hands, and Loki realized this was the first time the twins had seen one another since the beginning of the battle.

"You were right, Loki," Sif said. "The Chitauri told us nothing."

Fandral added, "They speak no tongue we understand."

"They were not _speaking_." There was a tightness around Sif's eyes and at the corners of her mouth. "They were laughing."

Fandral shrugged uneasily.

That was when Sif noticed Loki carrying Mjolnir. Fandral saw where she was looking and his mouth dropped open.

"What —" Sif's gaze flew up to Loki's face. "Where is Thor? What have you done?"

Loki said to Breyrkekolf, "Send guards to kill the Chitauri. Unless you prefer to kill them yourself."

"Yes, sire."

Brisenndyr inclined her head to Loki, and left with her brother, both of them heading toward the temple.

Sif grabbed Loki by the shoulder; Loki shook her off. She'd never liked him much, and he could tell that she liked him even less now.

"Do not test me, Sif," he said.

"Where is Thor?"

"The Chitauri took him. I can't stop you from following me, but don't expect me to tag after you, as I did in Asgard."

Behind the two of them, Loki saw Brisenndyr part ways with her brother, and cut across the courtyard toward a crashed Chitauri flyer. He wasn't sure what she expected to accomplish. She'd never seen a flyer before today. She wouldn't be able to figure out how to operate it. He was fairly certain. Probably.

"You… you're going after Thor?" Sif said, incredulous.

"I am."

"Take us with you."

Loki watched Brisenndyr push the flyer upright from its canted position in the snow. A moment later, she found the engine housing in the back, and popped it open.

"You never _tagged after us_ , Loki," Fandral said.

Loki headed across the courtyard toward flyer, stepping over the Chitauri corpses that littered the ground. Brisenndyr crouched beside the flyer and, by the time Loki reached her, she had both hands inside its engine. She looked up when she heard his footsteps crunching through the snow, then she shifted her focus behind him, to Sif and Fandral.

"Will it fly?" Loki said.

"Yes, it's only stalled. Several wires pulled loose in the crash." Brisenndyr closed the panel over the engine and stood up, brushing snow and ash off her hands. "Even if it won't stay aloft, the fall won't hurt a god, I expect."

Loki smiled.

Fandral stepped around him, saying to Brisenndyr, "Princess. Do you know where the Chitauri have taken Thor?"

"Will you tell us?" Sif demanded.

Brisenndyr looked to Loki before answering. "Sire?"

Sif uttered a soft, frustrated growl. Likely, the only thing preventing Sif from voicing her opinion of Loki at great length was that she was in Jotunheim, surrounded by jotunar, whom she knew would cheerfully dismember her for speaking ill of Loki, including the jotun princess standing right in front of her.

Loki tilted his head fractionally at Brisenndyr, giving her permission to do as she liked with Sif and Fandral.

***

When Loki reached the ridge overlooking Dokkalfheim, he landed the flyer, skidding it across the loose shale and ice, to a rough halt. The terrain of Jotunheim didn't lend itself to smooth landings.

He stepped off the flyer, and bent to retrieve Mjolnir from where he'd set the hammer on the floorboard. He closed his hand around the pommel, fearing to feel dead metal again, yet at the same time bracing himself for the other possibility. Mjolnir allowed itself to be lifted. The force of sensations struck Loki again like a physical blow.

"Show me Thor," he said.

Loki felt the hammer waiting to be called to the hand that wielded it. But, that was all. Either Loki's magic couldn't penetrate the veils between Jotunheim and Dokkalfheim, or there was another reason. Thor might be dead. And if Thor was dead, there was nothing left.

He lowered Mjolnir, and there came a skid and rattle of loose rock behind him. A second Chitauri flyer landed. Brisenndyr leapt away from the flyer, as if she feared it would go screeching off the edge of the cliff. Though, that was doubtful, since she had brought Volstagg with her.

Brisenndyr bowed to Loki, hand over her heart. "Sire."

"I told you not to come with me."

She looked as though she wanted to offer him some excuse, but all she said was, "I know."

Volstagg heaved one leg over the seat of the flyer and walked away crookedly, tugging at his belt. Brisenndyr turned to watch two more flyers approaching the ridge, and Volstagg adjusted the front of his breeches.

"I do not like these Chitauri machines, Loki."

"They obviously don't like you either."

Sif and Hogun had commandeered the third flyer, Fandral the fourth one by himself, and for a brief moment, Loki wondered why Tortrigg had not come with them. He squeezed his hands into fists.

Volstagg walked to the edge of the cliff, hooked his thumbs into his belt, and and surveyed the barrier between the realms. Then he smiled at Loki. "I see you waited for us."

"I didn't wait for you," Loki said archly. He lifted Mjolnir, not in Volstagg's direction, but toward the barrier. "I was trying to find Thor. I cannot."

"Well, then. What's your plan?"

"I haven't got one."

Sif and Fandral landed their flyers nearby, and walked to where Loki stood with Volstagg and Brisenndyr. They were looking to Loki, expecting him to lead them. It was never this way. If it was not Thor in charge, then it was Sif. If it was not Sif, then Sif's Warriors Three contented themselves with waiting for the next grand adventure, and of course, nothing was ever expected of Loki.

"I don't know where Thor is," he said. "I don't know if he's still alive. I don't know what lies beyond the barrier. Follow me or not. It's your choice."

"We will follow you," Sif replied.

Loki already knew Brisenndyr's answer. He mounted his flyer, setting Mjolnir between his boots, then he kicked back on the ignition lever. The flyer's engine fired, the exhaust blowing up a cloud of water vapor behind him, as the ice sizzled away. He didn't pause to wonder if the flyer's engine would continue to operate inside the barrier. He launched the flyer over the crest of the ridge. It plunged downward, following the curve of the land, and swooped toward the veils of light.

Crossing the barrier was nothing like traveling the Bifrost. The web of light and chaos that seized him was primal and elemental; blinding, deafening and disorienting. Meaningless. He reached for the Casket, touched its slender blue thread inside his mind. It urged him toward Jotunheim. He reached for Mjolnir, darker and heavier, drawing him toward Thor.

One moment he was nowhere. The next, the flyer was soaring over Dokkalfheim. Loki's nose and throat filled with gritty ash. Arid heat seared his lungs and baked his face and hands. Nothing lay below him but red dust and wind-scoured red rock. The sky was barely distinguishable from the ground, just a haze of blowing dust. The engine of the Chitauri flyer began to cough and stutter.

Now that he had crossed the barrier, he needed to land, and ask Mjolnir again to show him Thor. He aimed the Chitauri flyer at a sharp escarpment of rock poking up from the dust, and brought it to a landing on the rough, pitted surface. If he could not get the flyer into the air once more, he would walk.

He looked back toward the shimmering, flickering madness of the veils. Faintly, he could see Jotunheim. The shadow of the ridge, and above it, the paler sky. Three Chitauri flyers emerged from the dust clouds, heading in his direction. Good.

He scooped up Mjolnir. "Show me Thor."

A ripple of lightning flickered across the sky. Loki turned in a slow circle, until the hammer pulled at his arm, and thunder rolled. Perhaps the first thunder Dokkalfheim had heard in a thousand years.

Loki tightened his grip, pulling back on Mjolnir as the hammer strained to escape. "No. No, I need you to stay with me." If the Chitauri had injured Thor too grievously, or imprisoned Thor too deeply for him to free himself, Mjolnir might fly to Thor and be lost along with him. Loki was well aware of the absurdity of negotiating with a lump of metal, but he said to Mjolnir, "Find my brother."

Lightning cracked the sky. Loki barely had time to wince before the bolt struck the hammer's head. He tried to open his hand and drop Mjolnir. His muscles would not obey him. Power ripped through his body, and fire scorched his nerves.

"No," he gasped. "No, no, no —"

Mjolnir yanked him off his feet. He was flying. Not inside his mind this time, but actually flying, over the barren landscape of Dokkalfheim, away from the barrier and the edge of the realm. He narrowed his eyes to slits against the dust, hung on, and tried not to die.

A huge mass of darkness rose in the distance and rapidly swelled in size. It wasn't a natural structure. Its outline was too uniform. Thor's cursed hammer intended to fly him right to it, into the midst of the Chitauri forces. He'd be surrounded before he could defend himself. It had happened before. It had happened after he'd fallen from the Bifrost. The Chitauri had discovered him more dead than alive, and they had taken him to their homeworld, and this could not be happening again. Not again. He could not endure this again.

Mjolnir plummeted out of the sky. Loki didn't fall far before the hammer caught him with a snap that nearly jerked the pommel from his hand. He hadn't looped leather strap around his wrist. He'd never thought Mjolnir would deign to carry him.

Thor's hammer deposited him on the ground, as lightly as a leaf touching the surface of a puddle.

"Apology accepted," Loki said.

Thankfully, the the others were far behind him. He took a few deep breaths of hot, gritty air to steady himself, and calm the panic clawing at the inside of his chest. This was not the same as before. He had come here of his own volition. He'd come to rescue Thor. He'd come to kill every Chitauri he could find.

He moved toward the shadow of a rocking outcropping, his boots sinking into the dust. It was difficult to discern anything of the nearby building. It was nothing but a towering rectangular blob. However, if the Chitauri had posted sentries, they might have devices far more keen than Asgardian eyesight. The surrounding landscape was entirely red, save for Loki and his jotun blueness.

He heard the buzzing whine of a flyer behind him, and Sif landed close to the rocky outcrop, her flyer skidding on the slick dust. Three others followed close behind. Brisenndyr had brought Loki's abandoned flyer as well. They gathered in the shadow of the outcrop, which lent precious little shelter from the swirling grit. They were all painted with red dust. It clung to their hair and skin and clothing. Even their armor.

"We look like the fire giants of Muspelheim," Fandral remarked with a laugh.

"You should have waited," Sif said to Loki.

Loki frowned at her, detecting a hint of worry in her angry tone.

"I know how much you love Thor," she said, "but you can't go charging in alone."

"Is there a plan now?" Hogun wanted to know.

"Charge in together?" Volstagg suggested.

"It works for Thor," said Fandral.

"Usually," Hogun added.

Loki smiled wryly. This was indeed shaping up to be like one of Thor's expeditions: ill-advised, badly-planned, and perpetually teetering between glory and disaster.

***


	11. Chapter 11

Huge metal pylons protruded from the outside wall of the building, each one about ten paces from the next. The base of each pylon was buried in a drift of red dust, and between the pylons, the walls were constructed from plates of metal bolted together in what looked to be random shapes and patterns.

Past the last pylon at the corner, the metal jigsaw of the wall had been smashed open, as if struck by a titanic fist. Not from the outside, but from within. Huge pieces of rusted, wind-pitted metal lay nearby, sticking out of the dust like strange, dead trees.

Loki and the others stepped cautiously through the opening. Immediately, the wail of the wind dropped to nothing. The sudden silence was unsettling. A dim gray light emanated from nowhere and everywhere. It had been the same on the Chitauri homeworld. But, they encountered no Chitauri.

Mjolnir tugged at Loki's hand, and Loki followed the hammer's pull deeper into a labyrinth lined with pipes and conduits, past massive machines, rows of storage tanks, mysterious configurations of turbines, gears and pulleys, all covered in the red dust.

Brisenndyr trailed Loki closely, almost treading on his heels, but Loki knew it wasn't from fear. At least, not fear for herself. With Tortrigg dead, Brisenndyr obviously felt it her duty to take the ettin's place protecting Loki.

But, it wasn't Loki who encountered the first Chitauri. It was Volstagg, who guarded their rear. Volstagg gave a roar of angry surprise. The snap and whine of a Chitauri stunner followed. Loki turned in time to see a Chitauri soldier topple over the railing on the opposite side of the corridor, crashing down into the dead machinery far below. Another Chitauri fell to Volstagg's axe, then more soldiers charged in to engage them.

Stunner bolts flew, ricocheting off the walls; Sif swung her spear, blocking one, and deflecting it back toward the Chitauri who had fired it. Fandral, who stood the closest to Loki and Brisenndyr, moved to block the Chitauri from reaching Loki through the narrow hallway. Brisenndyr fought by Fandral's side, an ice blade in each hand.

The Chitauri fought with no strategy whatsoever. As their fellows died, they rushed into the corridor to die, cut down by blades, and bolts from their own stunners. Brisenndyr fought well. She was not the equal of the Asgardians, but she was fearless, fast and savage.

"Loki, go!" Fandral called over his shoulder. "Find Thor!"

It was not like them to split up. In times of old, they had always fought together until none were left to oppose them. Loki beckoned to Brisenndyr, and they headed farther down the corridor. Another patrol of Chitauri met them at an intersection. Brisenndyr ducked a stun bolt, and Loki swung Mjolnir, caving in the helmet of the lead Chitauri, along with the skull underneath it.

Loki strode into the corridor, shedding his jotun coat for his Asgardian armor and his horned helmet. Stunner bolts glanced off his armor; enough of them would overwhelm him, the way they had Thor, but Loki lifted Mjolnir in one hand and and an ice blade in the other, and waded into the middle of the Chitauri.

The hammer never Loki's hand. If he threw it as Thor did, it wouldn't come back to him. It was far more satisfying to slaughter the Chitauri at close range, repaying them for every insult and injury he'd suffered at their hands.

When the last one fell, Loki kept walking. Brisenndyr followed, though not quite as closely as she had before. Mjolnir led Loki several levels underground, to where the red dust hadn't yet seeped in. They came to a large room, lit with the same flat and sourceless gray illumination. The room was empty, save for a cage with diagonal bars, which hung suspended in the center of the room, held aloft by no visible means. The cage had no door.

Thor lay facedown on the floor of the cage, his red cape spread over him like a shroud. Brisenndyr gasped softly. The cage was not big enough for him to stand upright, nor long enough for him to lie full length. Loki could not see Thor's face from where he stood below the cage. His brother lay with one arm crooked under him, and his head pillowed in it.

Loki sheathed the ice blade in his hand, and leapt up to the cage, catching hold of the bars, and wedging his boot between them. The cage didn't even sway under his weight. He had been angry before. But that anger had been cold and purposeful. The rage he felt now surged hot and raw, and blinded him in a wash of red for an instant, filling his ears with the rush of his own blood. He welcomed it as an old, familiar friend. Lifting Mjolnir, he smashed the hammer down on a corner joint of the cage with all his strength.

Mjolnir met the Chitauri metal with a deafening, ringing crash, loud enough to alert all the Chitauri in the building who were not already dead. Brisenndyr clapped her hands over her ears. The corner of the cage shattered. Several bars toppled free, striking the floor with one loud clang after another. Loki pulled off his helmet and ducked into the cage.

He laid his free hand on Thor's arm, where the skin was bare. Thor still felt warm and alive. Loki bowed his head for a moment, and closed his eyes. If he had come so far only to find Thor dead, there would have been no point to continuing. There would have been no point to anything.

"Thor," he said.

Thor stirred, and looked up. His blue eyes were haunted. It was a look Loki saw it each time he caught a glimpse of his own reflection.

"Loki?" Thor stretched out a hand to him. "Are you real?" His fingers touched Loki's arm. "You _are_ real." Then his brows drew together. "You're covered in blood."

Loki smiled. "None of it's mine."

Mjolnir hummed in Loki's hand, and strained in his mind, reaching for Thor. Loki lifted the hammer into Thor's field of vision. Thor's eyes widened. His expression overflowed with surprise, and then realization, and more besides. Loki set the hammer beside Thor's hand.

"Stop leaving your toys in my realm," he said.

A stunner bolt winged off the corner of the cage, and it shuddered. A Chitauri crumpled to the floor with its throat slashed. Brisenndyr snatched the fallen Chitauri's stunner and darted to the opposite side of the entrance archway. Another Chitauri outside the room snarled. From behind Loki came a crack and roll of thunder, and when he glanced over his shoulder, Thor was rising to a crouch.

Loki sprang from the shattered cage, and Thor followed. The Chitauri soldiers in the hallway didn't live long after that.

When the last corpse had fallen, Thor bowed to Brisenndyr.

"Princess Brisenndyr of Clan Brinjolf, I am gladdened to see you well."

Brisenndyr smiled up at him. "Likewise, Thor Odinson of Asgard."

Sif and her Warriors Three found them shortly thereafter.

"We followed the sound of Chitauri being vanquished," Volstagg said cheerfully.

Thor said, "Let's leave this accursed place." But he looked to Loki as he spoke, raising his eyebrows.

"No," Loki said, "There's one more thing I need to do. Find the Chitauri leader." He added brusquely, "Come with me, if you wish."

"I will come," Thor said. "We will go together."

***

In a room at the top of the building, Loki found the Chitauri transport device that had stolen Thor. The original function of the room was as unguessable as the rest of the structure. It was high-ceilinged and as narrow as a chimney. Huge chains hung in slots along the walls. The ever-present red dust had drifted into corners and piled under the arrow-slit windows with their blurred panes of patchwork glass.

The transport device resembled a tall oval mirror in a black frame, but instead of silver-backed glass set in the center, multicolored light shifted and shimmered. The Chitauri had sent Loki to Midgard through such a device and, given enough time and calculations, the Chitauri might discover how to reach Asgard.

The Chitauri leader waited for Loki there as well.

It would have been wiser for the Chitauri leader to take whatever remained of his troops and flee. Loki would have escaped, bided his time, and struck when his quarry had grown complacent and overconfident. But the Chitauri were not so prudent.

Loki walked forward a few steps toward the hooded form at the far side of the room, before he realized his boots were the only ones echoing on the dusty stones. Thor had hung back. Sif and her Warriors Three had followed Thor's example, as had Brisenndyr. They would be swift to avenge him if he fell — likely they would leap in at the first sign of trouble. But for now, he approached alone.

"Loki of Asgard," said the Chitauri leader. Though his face was invisible in the shadows of his hood, the sneer in his voice was unmistakable. "I didn't recognize you at first. You resemble one of those horned monsters from that frozen, forsaken realm on the other side of the barrier." One clawed hand lifted. "Ah, but forgive me. This is your true face, is it not?"

Loki said nothing. Undoubtedly, the Chitauri leader had expected a vehement tirade about Loki being the rightful ruler of Asgard, a king betrayed and cast out. Loki had raged and capered for the Chitauri's amusement once before. Not again.

The Chitauri leader glided closer to him. "You've rescued your brother. Killed my soldiers. I suppose you think you've won."

"No," Loki replied.

"Then you expect me to trade your life for your brother's?"

Loki laughed softly. "You intend to keep all of us, I'm sure."

The Chitauri leader drew back in confusion, but not fast enough. Loki's ice blade sprang from his hand, and impaled the Chitauri leader through the chest. The Chitauri leader crumpled, the hood of his cloak falling away, his mouth and eyes wide in surprise, as he clutched at the freezing blade that transfixed him. He dropped to the dusty floor, sliding off the end of Loki's blade, and leaving a slick of greenish black blood on the ice.

Loki said, "Alas, we must refuse your kind hospitality."

"You don't know…" The Chitauri leader's voice emerged thick and choked. He spat up a mouthful of blood. "You have no idea what you've done, Asgardian."

"I know precisely what I've done, you stupid heap of carapace and meat. I've incurred the wrath of your all-powerful master, who will stop at nothing to possess the Tesseract. So be it. If he's listening to our conversation —" Loki yanked his arm back and drove it downward into the Chitauri leader's chest once more, and the Chitauri leader shrieked in agony. " — I prefer to be addressed as King Loki of Jotunheim."

*** 


	12. Chapter 12

Thor sighed. "I wish we could have preserved the Chitauri transport device. Taken it to Midgard somehow. I know Tony Stark would have liked to study it."

"Better to destroy it," Loki said. "Better to be sure."

Even so, it was only a small assurance. Loki was not going to assume that the Chitauri leader had kept his research and calculations to himself. The Nine Realms were likely still in danger.

Thor leaned his arms on the window ledge and looked out across the grounds of the palace. Snow was falling again, but this time in gentle drifts. The snowfall had begun as Loki crossed the barrier from Dokkalfheim into Jotunheim.

"Are you well?" he asked Thor.

"Well enough," Thor replied. But, he didn't look at Loki as he answered.

"You wished to speak with me?" Loki reminded him.

"Only to thank you."

"You've thanked me already," Loki said without an edge to his voice.

"There is much we need to discuss," said Thor. "But, I only wished to say thank you. That is all."

Thor's face was full of hope. Open to hearing anything Loki might say.

"You're welcome," Loki answered.

Thor smiled, apparently satisfied with that. "We will be off, then. Sif, and the others and I. You're certain you won't come back to Asgard with us?"

"There's no place for me in Asgard anymore."

Thor tilted his head. "You might be surprised."

Loki smiled. " _You_ might be surprised, Thor. I will not be."

"Well," Thor said. "All right."

"Safe journey," Loki said.

"Be well, Loki."

Thor walked out of the anteroom, leaving Loki alone. Loki took a deep breath and released it. Thor shouldn't have come, but now he was gone, and he wouldn't return. He knew he wasn't welcome here.

Loki tugged at the fur cuffs of his alfin coat, and the sudden, piercing grief that washed over him was no surprise, nor was the hot rush of tears. He was only surprised that he still had a heart soft enough to humiliate him.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand. There was a future for him here in Jotunheim. A realm given to his care. Gods were long-lived. The things that hurt him now would fall away eventually, and be forgotten.

Footsteps returned to the anteroom. Loki knew those steps anywhere. It was Thor. Loki turned his back on the door, then he cursed himself for an idiot. Whether or not Thor had seen his tears, Loki's swift gesture had certainly betrayed him.

The footsteps halted, and then approached him, slowly. Loki expected Thor to offer him pointless words of comfort, but Thor said nothing. He was as silent as he had been the day Odin had forced Loki to leave Asgard with the Casket.

They remained thus for what seemed to Loki like an eternity. Thor not speaking, and Loki struggling not to betray himself a second time. Then Thor stepped swiftly around Loki. Before Loki could react, he found himself clamped between Thor's muscular arms and hauled against Thor's broad chest. Loki stiffened. Thor did not step away. Loki stood stonily frozen in the middle of Thor's unwelcome embrace. Still, Thor would not release him. He would likely stand there forever, implacable and steadfast, waiting for Loki to respond. Loki could not bring himself to speak aloud, to tell Thor to let him go. In truth, there was only one thing Loki could do, and only one thing he wanted to do. Loki wrapped his arms around his brother and held on tightly.

THE END

***


End file.
